The Lost Sons of Prospero
by Brother Ahzek
Summary: When the Thousand Sons legion are close to their ultimate goal. A sorcerer and his Rubricae stayed back to hold off the vile Death Guard. Victory seemed so close, but when time had come to leave a world to its fate. The Warp grew silent, and calm. A lost son must forge a new path for the memory of Prospero.
1. Prologue

This was a crazed idea that I had one night, and decided I should try it. This is also the first fanfiction I've ever written so any, and all advice is welcome.

Quick disclaimer:

Warhammer 40,000 is property of Games Workshop all characters, factions, etc belong to them. Any Black Library novel references and materiel belong to their respectful owners.

Mass Effect is property of Bioware all characters, locations, etc belong to them.

In the event that I missed one of these disclaimers, the work is property of their respectful owners

* * *

Prologue:

001 M42

Segmentium Tempestus

Imperial Agriworld: New Helse

The sounds of bolter fire surrounds me, the dull thudding of endless war. The pathetic and blind Death Guard are a better distraction than Ahriman predicted. It's far better to lose a hundred plagued Astartes than a single Rubicae, it's also a mercy to kill those who have lost their minds and bodies to the Ruinous Powers. "Pathetic are they not brothers?" I mindlessly asked my Rubicae, they would not answer, and their silence always saddened me; I knew each of them before they turned to dust. We fought side by side on Prospero, a few since the dawn of the crusade.

"Be one with Nurgle sorcerer!" An almost drowning like voice yelled. Before I turned my bolt pistol on the traitor. Sending a high explosive round towards the foe, I subconsciously sent some of my power into the round allowing it to burn into the disgusting form of the marine. Yet another mercy killing. I know my Rubicae continue their task flawlessly, sending round after round into the foe, with accuracy that would terrify even the finest of sharpshooters. Every once and a while a traitor would surge forward only to be cut down by one of my brother's power khopesh in a single fluid motion. The efficiency of a Rubric Marine terrifies even me sometimes. According to some of my brothers this is due to them only regaining some of their former selves in combat, if this is the truth, than it only saddens me more so, to not feel the joys after a fight is done. They would only feel life in endless war.

+Outcast, do you still live?+ The familiar sounds in the back of my mind cooed once again.

+Yes brother, I still live. I cannot say the same for many of these traitors.+ I replied with but a thought.

+Good, Ahriman approaches the Black Library, we are close. I can feel the legion returning to its' former glory! You have done well Outcast, Ahriman thanks you for your dedication as well.+

Outcast, I'm unsure why exactly I'm titled that by my Brothers. Was it because I chose to work alone after Prospero, was it due to my solitary study habits before the fall, or was it due to my place of origin was not like the rest of the legion? Perhaps it's all of these factors. Regardless, Ahriman thanking me himself filled my hearts with pride.

+Inform our lord that thanks will not be necessary, I am eager to stand alongside my brothers yet again, at that point I shall be thanking him.+ I merely stated the truth of my thoughts.

+You always were humble brother, but we would not be in the webway if not for you.+ A third familiar voice joined our psychic conversation.

+Lord Ahriman?+ I hastily inquired.

+You no longer need to hold the webway gate, you, and your Rubricae should leave that world to its fate. We shall meet again a legion renewed.+

+At once, we shall meet once we show the universe that we are masters of our own fate. Until then, I wish you luck my lord.+

"Let us leave this place brothers." The Rubric Marines fell back in orderly perfection that would make the sons of Guilliman, and Fulgrim look like PDF conscripts. Never taking their bolters off the enemy, and the wailing sound of a soulreaper cannon ending the lives of many Plague Marines in short notice. Once my brothers closed ranks I analyzed the situation. All around us we face Nurgles chosen, but if we advance south we could puncture their wretched lines. The only problem is we would face ranks upon ranks of guardsmen. But that was not the primary problem, we would also face a few Astartes chapters, mostly Blood Angels, and Black Templars. However they pale in comparison to the true foe, the Vlka Fenryka, the bastards of Fenris, the damnable Space Wolves. I don't fear them, by the Ocean I would end their pathetic savage lives with a thought, and great fury, but something tells me they are here because of rumors of the XV legion, so they would no doubt be hunting the Enlighted sons of Magnus.

I sighed "Nothing is ever easy in this universe." I needed somewhere safe in order to perform the ritual to shift us from this world to the rally point, and with the Wolves hunting us, no doubt with a Wolf Priest. By the Ocean even a child psyker could see me perform the ritual. Perhaps with luck, and skill we could penetrate the Death Guard lines.

My trail of thought was interrupted by a bolt round thundering past my head. I turned to see eight perhaps ten Plague Marines. My Rubicae could not fire upon these threats without exposing themselves.

"It seems not all of you are fools, I applaud your initiative!" I yelled at the stubborn Death Guard whilst taking out a boxy sidearm. A loud whining choom could be heard, and a red beam could be seen. Upon making contact with the diseased marine his pustules exploded with enough heat to burn through his nearby comrades' armor, but that was only the start. I heard the Death Guard laugh, as the poor pox filled marine was laughing as his flesh inside his armor boiled away, even those 'blessed' by Nurgle could not bear the damage of Volkite Serpenta. Very few Astartes have seen a Volkite weapon in this age, anyone in the Crusade grows immune to the effects of these weapons on foes, and rarely on their brothers. The flanking Plague Marines must have been five hundred years old, and formed a bond as strong as ceramite, but due to their young age they've never seen a weapon capable of such a feat. Killing one of their brothers and wounding two others in a single shot. This no doubt stunned them like many younger marines, as the analyzed the situation at the speed only possible by an Astartes. By the time they processed what happening I had turned my Serpenta onto another one. The beam cut into his armor, though he did not scream like most marines, his exploding flesh being shot into the air, burning through the maggot infested skull of an unhelmed comrade. The remaining marines charged.

"Come you worthless dogs, I'll show you true might!" I turned my Serpenta to another marine, the beam cutting into his neck joint. I turned my staff to the others, a weapon of exquisite design, while many of my brothers prefer sigils to enhance their connection to the Ocean I preferred a redesign of the legendary Custodes Guardian Spear. That would be until the daemon hunters of the Imperium emerged that a weapon so similar would appear. I also found them ironic, psykers after Nikea, and wielding weapons like the one I have. I sent a wave of psychic energy to the blade, and with all my might sliced into the horrible armor of the traitor. Before burning the newly exposed flesh with another thought. The few that remained were cut down by one of my Rubricae.

"Let us leave now my brothers!" I decided to do something the Wolves would not expect, we would head north. Pierce the Death Guard lines, and the Imperial zealot lines. Perform the ritual, and rejoin a legion anew. It's the best plan that I can devise, but perhaps we will simply face our deaths. I hate hoping that Tzeentch would find it amusing that I live, but sometimes it's needed. So we marched through once lush fields of crops, now blighted, and bombarded wasteland. Fighting hordes of poxwalkers, and the occasional squad of fallen marines.

After two hours of marching. We had finally reached the Imperial lines, and I decided to do something exceptionally risky. The Death Guard had set up medusa guns firing blighted rounds, these would collapse the Imperial line in a day. To counter this Guardsmen sent raiding parties to destroy the guns, these teams would be supported by a detachment of Astartes, these marines will return to friendly lines once the raid is concluded due to the limited amount of Guardsmen supporting them, but it won't be an airborne extraction due to the AA weapons. With luck a Guardsmen sentry will believe they're just fighting the Death Guard, and believe the heraldry of the XV legion to be one of theirs.

I decided to risk it. I approached the lines and I thankfully heard a mortal yell "Hold your fire they're on our side!" I'm uncertain whether to thank, or despise the mortal's ignorance.

"My lord." I looked to see a squad of mortal guardsmen all bowing down to me, if a commissar or officer knew what we are, would they fire at me or the guardsmen first? "I was unaware that the raid would end so soon, did we succeed my lord?"

I was uncertain what to do, but I had to ensure they truly believed we are on their side. "I'm uncertain if we've successfully destroyed the guns, our drop pod was shot off course, so we returned to our lines before the Death Guard could overrun our squad." I had hoped that these guardsmen had never served with Astartes directly before, because both of these lies aren't characteristic of the Adeptus Astartes.

"I see my lord." The young what seemed to be a sergeant replied. Fear began to build within his mind, and it soon spread among his comrades like the blight that infests this world. No doubt due to our appearance, we're not the most subtle of legions

"I am a Liberian from the Draco Eques chapter, these are my bodyguards, and they've sworn an oath of silence." I could feel their fear dropping from my lie, at least he's familiar with the inconsistences among chapters. "Could I ask you a favor guardsmen?"

"Yes my lord?" the guardsmen now somewhat fearful of what I had to ask.

"Don't tell the other chapters of our failure, it would bring great to shame my chapter." And no doubt end in your death, but yet again if anyone found out about our encounter, you would be dead no matter what.

"Yes my lord!"

"You have my thanks. Do you know of anywhere remote that my chapter can establish a FOB?"

"I believe the lieutenant might have a better idea my lord." I guardsmen responded somewhat helpfully.

"I hope that your lieutenant is as helpful as you are guardsmen, the Emperor Protects." I was somewhat truthful in that statement, the sergeant ignorance means we may leave this world without pointless bloodshed, but it still and always saddened me that the Emperor is worshiped as a god. It's not what he wanted, it's more in line with Lorgar's line of thought.

"Thank you my lord, the lieutenant is in the observation bunker." The guardsman said while showing the sign of the Aquila.

Luckily it was easy to find the lieutenant, he would no doubt be less oath bound than the sergeant so I merely reached into his mind and grabbed the information I needed, completely melting his mind if I were not a son of Magnus I might have needed to physically make contact with him, but such actions as this physically drained me. I hope someone more competent takes over. Yet again the Guard is nothing compared to the Solar Auxilia, But this entire day is perhaps Tzeentch watching me amusingly. I merely shuddered at such a thought.

It was a simple two kilometer march to the northeast. Before we found an old warehouse complex. It is no doubt scheduled to become a barracks or an ammo depot, but it will serve my purpose well enough.

+Brothers, protect me for but a moment.+

The Rubricae moved into a defensive position, and I began the ritual. It would take hours of rites, and observations to ensure we would be safe in transit, and to find the correct current in the Ocean, but it's like trying to find a stream in a tidal wave. The biggest problem however was that I could hear howling. How did these bastards know so soon? "Don't you know that there are no wolves on Fenris."

"Silence warlock!" The booming voice behind the helmet, themed like a snarling wolf replied. "You will pay for your crimes against mankind!" All the while the preparing of boltguns on both sides was instantaneous.

"Wolf, I've heard that many times before. Before Horus betrayed the Emperor, during the sacrilege of Prospero." I began to laugh "When we burnt Fenris to the ground. And every time it's from a Wolf Priest, you know we're not so different, you and I."

"You're wrong we get our power from-"

"I swear it's the same response as well 'we get our power from the winds and spirts of Fenris!' You deny it wolf but your legion is nothing more than feral hypocrites!" I swiftly retorted, it's the same whenever I face a wolf, such predictable creatures. By the Ocean, the wolves that accompany them I respect more than their owners.

"Enough!" The Wolf Priest snarled.

"Indeed, I might give you a quick death." My Rubricae swiftly opened fire, killing five of the Wolves before the remaining ten closed the gap.

Ten on ten I thought, this will be a simple clean up. The drawing of Khopeshes was swift, no doubt the Vlka Fenryka were trained to face us in melee, however few sorcerers have a bond with their Rubricae like I do, many prefer to lead twenty, thirty, even hundreds into combat. But I prefer to lead my nine flawlessly, and my teaching as a Corvidae only boost their almost unnatural speed. The Wolves always fight with an equally unnatural speed, the only others this trained are the Black Templars, perhaps the Grey Knights as well. I watched the fight, my Rubricae can make decisions much more effortlessly in combat than most, using my abilities of precognition to predict where the Wolves will dodge. Such an ability is what saved many on Prospero, and what led many Wolves, including these ones to their deaths. Nothing is more amusing than seeing a Wolf dodge a blow, smile at its own speed, and be decapitated but mere moments later. The fight ended in mere moments, 4.79 seconds to be precise. I walked over the Wolf Priest who I ordered wounded, not killed.

"To Hel with you!" it yelled whilst coughing up blood. Its legs and an arm severed.

"Fly in the Great Ocean! And talk to the other Priests who said the same thing, if their souls survived." I merely stabbed him with my staffs' blade, only impaling one of its hearts, the wolf won't live, but it'll die slowly.

I continued my ritual. 'Soon' I thought to myself. Then I felt it, a void approaching, and fast, a sphere of nothingness. I felt such a presence before. The Silent Sisterhood! Why, why now? The sisters have not been spotted since Prospero! Why do they leave Terra now? Damn it all, if they got to close the ritual would be ruined. I have to do this now. I reached out to the Great Ocean, and dragged my Rubricae with me.

* * *

2185

Terminus Systems

SSV Normandy SR2

Commander John Shepard, first Human Spectre, hero of the Citadel, a supposedly dead man, and now working with a xenophobic terrorist organization. On the plus side said organization is recruiting a few aliens. Mordin Solus, and Garrus Vakarian. Mordin's absolutely brilliant, and Garrus is an old friend, and the best shot he knows.

"Commander, the Illusive Man requests a meeting with you." A blue light stated.

"Alright I'll be down in a minute." Shepard replied. Thoughts on what it could be surged through his mind. 'Are the Collectors attacking?' 'Is it another recruitment op? If so who is it?' He has not slept since he was 'resurrected', he could only picture the possibilities of what the Collectors did to their captives. He headed to the lift, and activated the holographic node. It was a short walk to the briefing room, and nothing interrupts you when the crew has long since gone to sleep.

Arriving in the briefing room he noticed something off. "Miranda? The Illusive Man needs to see you too?"

"Apparently something big has come up, and he needs to see both of us." She stated.

The table lowered and the holographic 'stage' appeared, the two of them entered it.

"Glad you're both here." The Illusive Man blankly stated while drinking his brandy. "Something has come up that needs to be investigated, we're unsure if it's Reapers, or the Collectors, but something was transmitted on nearly every frequency on an uncolonized world." He activated his omni-tool and played the transmission.

"All is Dust" the Omni-tool blurted out, the tone was like that of an ominous whisper.

"The transmission ended as quickly as it began, this needs to be investigated ASAP."

"We'll check it out." Shepard responded to this new Intel.

"Best of luck Shepard" The Illusive Man stated before the transmission ended.

"Joker plot a course" Shepard ordered

"Aye Aye." Joker responded tiresomely no doubt his nap being interrupted.

"Any idea what this is about?" Shepard asked Miranda.

"No idea Commander. But if an unknown like this pops up and we need to investigate, it must be important." Miranda was being truthful in what she said.

"Alright, lets wake up the team. I need everyone ready in twenty minutes." Shepard ordered while walking to the armory.

* * *

I awoke from what felt like hours of rest, but it must have far shorter than that, the Ocean is a tricky thing especially with something as untested as this. I surveyed my surrounding, a green lush world ether most of the world is plains with a few hills, or it wins the award for largest natural field I've ever encountered. I then noticed his Rubricae, had formed a defensive circle around their master.

+Brothers do you hear me?+ I hoped for two things. Be it my fellow sorcerers to respond, or even better my Rubricae to once again be known as brothers.

But neither answered my call. Then I noticed the Raging Ocean, was but a Calm Pond. For once in millennia I felt truly alone.


	2. Chapter 1: Awakening

Chapter 1: Awakening

How is the Ocean this silent? According to the Eldar the warp was like this when their race was 'young' or so I heard. But this doesn't make any sense.

+Brothers, I ask that you guard me once more.+

I sat down and let my mind drift on the currents of the Ocean. I was shocked learn that the only ripples were only caused by me. Would the Eldar not cause even a minor disturbance at the very least? But yet it feels like I'm the first one to set foot in millennia, no, hundreds of millennia. Something is wrong, very wrong. I decided to do something that would no doubt attract every creature in the Warp.

+My brothers, ALL IS DUST!+ the force that I emplaced on the message, would be a whisper in the Great Ocean, but here, it was a mighty tidal wave. Seeing this reaction, I began to worry, first this action physically exhausted me. Secondly if this action was this large, could that mean I'm the most powerful psyker here? No, impossible, Ahriman, Magnus, the Emperor, even the ruinous powers would create larger shockwaves, even in their youngest of days. What of the Old Ones, were they not as old as the galaxy itself? Where are they?

I was for once in my life was answerless. I returned to my physical form, and I looked at my brothers. 'Perhaps they'll still return, after Ahriman reverses the Rubric.' I thought to myself, 'Perhaps, all is lost. What if Ahriman failed?'

'No, I'm an Astartes first, and a Psychic second. We are made in image of the Emperor and the Primarchs! I shall not succumb to such a hopeless state! We shall emerge victorious! We are the fifteenth legion, the wisest, and we're masters of our own fate!' I scolded myself for such cowardly thoughts.

"Now how would I get off the world?" It was a good question, the ritual required the tides of the Ocean to be perfect, but you could not travel without a constant flow. Something this place does not have. Perhaps the shockwave I sent out had physically manifested as a 'Whisper from the Warp'. It's possible, but yet again, it could have also created Warp Storms everywhere. I chuckled at the thought, how Tzeentch would be laughing as loud as possible if I had caused the Age of Strife! But yet again that would mean I lead to the end of Humanity's golden age. I decided to use this time to see what effect some warp magic had on the Great Ocean, yet again it's weak and the calm, then perhaps I shall call it the Little Pond. At least until I mess up, 'if' I mess up.

* * *

"Commander, we've reached the coordinates, but we're getting strange readings. Like off the damn charts." Joker reported

"What type of readings?" Shepard asked his pilot.

"Almost like freak electrical storms, but all scanners show that it's a clear day down there."

"I see, any suggestions?" Shepard asked his team consisting of two Cerberus operatives, a vigilante marksmen, a tank born Krogan, a dried up merc, and an insane biotic, but the question was heavily was focused on the Salarian.

"Weather anomaly possible, could even be a downed ship." The doctor replied in an exceptionally fast manner. "Worst case scenario it's a downed ship with a critical reactor, but yet again it would produce Ezero readings. Hmm, interesting. Underground complex perhaps?"

"Uh, Commander, we've got a Batarian vessel in orbit. No doubt they got the transmission." Joker stated.

"Shit." Shepard rarely hated aliens, but Batarians are his one exception. "Alright let's get groundside and see what's down there. Garrus, Miranda, your with me."

Both of the crew members nodded and headed towards the Kodiak.

"Let's get down there ASAP!" Shepard ordered the pilot of the Kodiak, as the sudden acceleration pushed him back into his chair. 'At least this pilot isn't the slowest of Kodiak pilots that I've had the displeasure of meeting' Shepard thought to himself as the g-forces kept him glued to his seat.

* * *

It's odd how little physically manifestations of the Warp affect the Ocean, or should I say Pond. Lightning, fire, et cetera, hardly the effect I expect. No doubt conjuration of any sort would greatly affect it, but I don't plan on summoning any daemons any time soon. Regardless it's amusing I thought I would have difficulty performing any sorcery, slowed Warp flow, this sometimes means slowed grasping of Warp energy. But it would seem I'm wrong yet again I've never had an easier time using my powers, perhaps it's due to less daemons trying to possess my mind, body, and soul.

Regardless of why it's enjoyable, but one thing that feels like will be disrupted is my precognition, but I won't exactly be able to test this theory just yet. I looked at my Rubricae, steadfast as always, their blue baroque armor still stained by tainted blood and dust. The gold trimmings glistening in this worlds' sun regardless of the filth. And the soul piercing green lenses on their helms, forever striking fear into our foes and is one of the few things that make me feel secure on this blasted world. I sighed, and went back to my Warpcraft.

* * *

The world was mostly a giant grass ball, many rivers connecting the few lakes to the singular ocean. The Hegemony would have turned it into a farming colony if not for the practically sterile soil.

"What the hell are we doing on this rock anyway captain?" The old slave driving lieutenant asked, in a harsh tone, a veteran of many raids.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Find the source of that damn signal, and bring back anyone there." The captain replied with some rage building in his mind.

"Perhaps it's Asari, I hear they're worth a lot these days." The newest of the raiders stated, causing the team to laugh.

Eighteen raiders, a sizable team that few could resist against. Even the youngest of them have been on at least five large, high risk raids. A stranded ship on a useless world, a cake walk.

* * *

The Kodiak hit the atmosphere and dropped like a meteor. If Ezero was nonexistent the crew aboard would have no doubt been knocked out, however the Kodiaks' hull would not last long against such forces. The heat slowly began melting the hull, and the force would begin to rip the hull apart. But it was needed to reach the site before the Batarians.

"Commander a Batarian bulk transport has landed half a klick from the site." The Kodiak pilot reported.

"Damn it." A bulk transport is often used by slavers Shepard thought. "Get ready for a fight, if there are people on this world we won't let those bastards have them!"

"Just like old times, eh Shepard?" Garrus joked. Last time they faced slavers was two years ago, when Shepard was still among the living.

"I'm going to have to decelerate rapidly. Brace!" The pilot ordered.

The force of the thrusters engaging was liking having a Geth Colossus landing on you. Making the passengers who were previously glued to their seats nearly ripped out of them.

"Apologies Commander. ETA to LZ 15 seconds."

"Alright, let's get this over with." Shepard said, nodding to his crew who were checking their weapons one last time.

A moment later, the doors on the Kodiak opened showing the never ending fields of a world known by the Hegemony as Helse Prime.

* * *

Perhaps this was a trick by Tzeentch, I could be stuck on a world deep within the Ocean. A peaceful daemon world, a ludicrous concept, but it could easily drive any worshiper of Chaos mad. No diseases, nothing to kill, nothing to entertain one's self, and a peaceful Ocean. It would drive fanatics mad, but why me? I could have indeed have accidently placed myself here, or Tzeentch could have caused this. Perhaps that damn abomination caused this, I may have been but a moment too late, and it may have messed with the ritual. No, that's unlikely but still a possibility. Damn it all.

+What do you think my brothers?+ I idly asked my companions. But then I sensed something, something with some purpose approaching.

* * *

The two parties approached the site of the mysteries signal. One group seeking riches, the other while ordered to investigate hoped for a weapon, or information against their foes.

It was only a matter of time before both parties met, and the god of all plots began to watch with its many eyes, and prepared to enjoy the spectacle to unfurl.

* * *

"Shepard!" The Normandy's Executive Officer yelled while looking through her binoculars. "I see the Batarians, fifteen by the looks of it."

"No, seventeen, two are acting as rear guard." The Turian corrected the woman whilst looking through his scope.

"Bastards, the site is just over that hill. We need to intercept them." Shepard began to ponder on how best to go about the situation. "Garrus, how many can you kill before they take cover behind that hill to our twelve o'clock?"

"Three, four if I'm lucky, and five if they're dumb." Garrus responded.

"Why don't we double time it up that hill and ambush them as they come over?" Miranda suggested.

"Not half bad." Garrus admitted "But the rearguard will no doubt flank us."

Shepard looked at his team's equipment. A SMG, a shotgun, two assault rifles, a sniper rifle, and all three of them had pistols.

"I hope they don't see us." Shepard mumbled to himself. "Alright let's double time it!" Shepard's team was on the move.

* * *

The Batarian team had experience in these stranded ship ops, and had their infiltrator scout ahead cloaked. But the Batarian saw no ship, only a group of what seemed like Humans, large Humans. The sound of people approaching broke the Batarian from its trance. Turning, the xeno saw a group of three, two Humans, and a Turian. Panicking the Batarian fired its shotgun, missing most of the shot, the flicker of the black armored mans' kinetic barriers. The last thing its four eyes saw was the flash of a Viper sniper rifle's barrel.

* * *

"Damnit!" Shepard was less concerned about the point blank shotgun blast that could have once again led to his death, but that the Batarians would be aware of their presence.

"Shepard they're running up the hill guns ready." Garrus reported the fairly obvious.

"Alright move to the crest of the hill on our rear, we'll stay prone until most of them are in the open. Then we'll light them!" Shepard ordered, his team swiftly took cover, and focused concealing themselves as much as possible.

It wasn't long before the Batarian force, seemingly split up into four teams began to sweep the hill. Two teams going to the flanks, and the other two looking for their comrade.

'These guys aren't the idiots from the Blitz, we may get four of them, seven at most. Before the other teams flank us, and overrun our position. Damnit I should have brought more of the team!' Shepard cursed himself while analyzing the situation.

"Shepard." Miranda said breaking Shepard's focus. "Are those what we're looking for?"

Shepard looked to his flank only to see what appeared to be blue giants, standing idly in a perfect circle, he could not clearly see how many there are. "Maybe?" Shepard responded, unsure of the answer himself.

"Regardless." Garrus chimed in. "We need to take out those Batarians, I have three grenades with me. We can open up the fight with those."

Shepard nodded, sticking up three fingers.

Three, Garrus began to pull out the disk grenades, and Miranda prepared her biotics.

Two, the Batarians advanced over to their dead comrade, Garrus pushed the impact setting on each of the grenades.

One, Shepard looked at the team, each of them nodding. "Now!" He yelled, bringing up his M8 Avenger, Garrus began to the throw the grenades. Miranda using here biotics to tear the armor of a Batarian apart. The combined firepower from the team led to a gruesome opening portion of the fight, six Batarians lay dead or wounded. The remaining Batarians took cover on the other side of the hill, laying down suppressive fire.

The Batarians are doing exactly as he expected, Shepard noticed a few heading towards his three o'clock, the same direction as the blue giants.

* * *

"It would seem we have company my brothers." I gripped my staff tighter.

+Advance brothers.+ in their usual unison my Rubricae advanced never going off step as they raised their weapons.

I began to notice the fight much more clearly, three individuals on one side of the hill. Two Human, and most oddly one xeno. I'm well aware that some inquisitors use xenos in their retinue, but it's a rare sight. However their combat effectiveness is obviously superior to their foe due to the opening acts of the fight. Then I noticed the foe of the 'inquisitor', a group of mutants, four eyed, rough skin. They reminded me of a threat that all of my brothers once faced, if they only kept their Human form.

+Mutants brothers, let us clean this taint.+ I silently ordered my brothers to prepare. While I may serve alongside many mutants within the legion, I despise serving with the horrifically mutated. While some hate their forms, a respectable opinion. Others thrive in their new forms. Perhaps this is why it was my duty to teach the servants how to shield themselves from the miasma of the Warp. I'm fully aware that mistakes happen, and I draw an exception to those servants.

Their weapons turned on us small whines and blue flashes showed that they began to fire. Las rounds would at least scorch our armor, but these rounds only caused a minor pinking sound on our armor.

I drew my bolt pistol, aimed it, and yelled something to mark our foes for death. Something Rubric Marines excel at, killing those I deem my foes.

* * *

The giants began to walk straight towards the hill, the Batarians were the first to notice and open fire. To their shock, no kinetic barriers activated, but their rounds still had no effect.

A thundering boom erupted across the battlefield.

"A FINE WELCOME FOR US BROTHERS! RETURN THE GREETING IN KIND!"

But mere moments after, blue purple flames began to erupt from their weapons. Any Batarian that was hit by these projectiles was almost disintegrated, the only evidence that they left was a pink mist, and at times limbs and fragments of armor.

The sound that their weapons made would put the Makos' main gun to shame. The dull thudding surrounded by the screams made by the Batarians, this was the true horror of war. Even as the Batarians attempted to flee they were cut down, an entire team stood up to run, only for a buzzing noise and a trail of flaming projectiles to reduce them to nothing.

The fight ended in a precise volley from the giants.

* * *

Shepard noticed a few wounded, missing a limb or two, one missing just over half of his body but still clinging onto life.

The giants approached, drew their curved blades and ended what was left of their life. Shepard than noticed the true height of the giants, seven, maybe even eight feet tall. Their armor was also extremely odd, it was like that of Ancient Egyptians, the helmets design only made them seem far taller. And their weapons, if not for their exquisite design and firepower, he would assume they were primitive. A boxy design with a magazine attached, almost like a 20th century weapon.

One of them approached the team, wearing a helm that's top design was sleeker, and bore two horns on the sides. The helm also bore a 'third eye' that glows as brightly as its helmet's other lenses. Perhaps most oddly were the robes it almost made it appear like a priest of some sort, the glaive like weapon however made it seem like a guard or executioner from some dark fantasy universe. Garrus was still observing the result of the battle, while Miranda, like Shepard was completely dumbfounded by what both could only assume as the officer of the group. Once the giant stood before them they once again noticed something, the writing best described as runes on its armor, and robes, seemed to have a dull blue glow. Normally translators can translate any language's writings, but this was still in its non translated form. Perhaps they're just drawings, or markings of rank?

"I'm Commander Shepard, Systems Alliance." Shepard swiftly blurted out, somewhat unsettled by the giant.

The giant stopped and seemed to process this. It slightly tilted its head before it said "What are you saying mortal?"

Miranda turned to Shepard "I don't think they have translation chips, Shepard." Still obviously shaken by the giants' firepower.

* * *

The mortals continued to pout gibberish to one another, I could not make sense of it. I sighed, slightly unnerving their conversation. Most worlds know Gothic of some sort, even a few Human worlds during the Crusade had a devolved, or sometimes evolved version of Gothic. Usually it would take a day or even two for the Techpriests, and other groups to translate the language. But one thing our legion did was to reach into diplomats minds to learn the language, only problem was this had a chance to kill the one that we're getting the info from, yet again we were young.

The two mortals nodded.

Perhaps I could communicate with them via psionics, yet I have a sneaking suspicion.

"Do you understand me mortals?" I asked.

They nodded their heads.

"So you understand high gothic?" I inquired frustration building in my mind.

They gave a confused expression, the woman turned and spoke their language, and the man nodded.

She began to speak a highly guttural version of Gothic, similar, yet I could not even guess coherent sentences from it.

Annoyed, I simply decided enough. I reached out my hand and touched the woman's forehead. I sifted through her memories as gently as I could, hopefully not killing her. But I obtained all information on a language known as English, and what she had previously spoken a language known as 'Latin', a familiar name from my old tomes, truly interesting. The woman collapsed, alive but unconscious. I decided to speak this guttural language.

'Let us see if we understand one another mortal?'

* * *

Shepard rushed to catch Miranda.

"What the hell did you do?!" He demanded answers.

"Finally, I understand your pathetic language." The giants booming voice held a hint of superiority. "Fear not mortal, I was gentle. She'll live."

Garrus had instinctively leveled his rifle at the giant. "Who are you?!" He had recovered from the sight before him, and like Shepard demanded answers.

The giant sighed. "Tell your companion to not speak its' pathetic xeno tongue, and I'll grant you some answers."

"What?" Shepard was caught up in the moment and remembered that the giant had no translation implants. He pointed to his forehead to emphasize the point. "We have chips that automatically translate any language into something understandable."

"I'm impressed, not even the techpriests have accomplished such a feat. I sense your concern, like I said your companion will live, give her time."

Techpriests? 'I sense your concern', what next 'turns out I was reading your mind?'

"Regardless I have a proposition for you." The giant said.

"And what is your proposition?" Shepard asked, anger building. A giant of unknown origin, and unknown power, holding him practically at gunpoint and has the nerve to ask.

* * *

"It would seem that my brothers and I are stuck on this world. In exchange I offer an exchange of knowledge." I nearly bit my tongue. Sharing knowledge it's something I've not done in millennia, only with my closest of brothers. The fear of treachery runs thick within the legion, but yet I could always bend the truth

"If we refuse?" the black armored mortal asked, no doubt already knowing the answer. But I chose to humor him.

I merely gestured all around him. My brother had formed around the mortals and the xeno.

"Very well, I'll call the shuttle over. Then we'll 'chat'" the mortal, no doubt the leader obviously he had reluctantly said it.

"My thanks." I said to the mortals. My brothers moved their weapons in unison as if they're on parade, and formed two columns behind me. 'Perhaps I won't die on this rock after all.' I thought to myself as I observed the team that I in a sense saved. The woman, in a near skin tight bodysuit, perhaps she's a spy, or even an assassin. The man, in what appeared to be an exceptionally slimed version of the Imperial carapace armor painted black with a red stripe down his right arm, no doubt he's the team leader. The xeno however particularly interested me, its avian like features were unknown to me. I've never seen or read about such a creature, the closest might be the Kroot, but I doubt it's one due to the marksman rifle it wields. Along with it's blue armor no doubt offered more protection than their leaders' armor even, but bore explosive scaring, new by the looks of it, the point is a Kroot tends not to wear heavy armor. Regardless, it's appearance also reminded me ever so slightly of one touched by Tzeentch, or one unlucky enough to face my brother's warpflamer. I will have to meditate over todays events, and these new discoveries.


	3. Chapter 2: Normandy

Chapter 2: Normandy

Multiple small, sleek vessels came down from the world's orbit. The craft are the tiniest voidcraft I've ever seen, roughly the size of a Predator tank. The mortal said these are their dedicated transports for infantry, usually holding eight soldiers. Eight, and by the crafts' flimsy appearance it could not face anti-air fire. I would say it's courageous to head into combat in such a fashion, if it was not completely idiotic. The vessels bearing a black and yellow color scheme, with heraldry that I did not recognize.

"I don't think the Kodiaks will hold all of your squad." The mortal pointed out. Once again I looked at the 'Kodiak', perhaps three of my brothers per craft. But with only three of these, and the mortals team to be ferried as well.

"Does your vessel not have more of these craft?" No doubt a proper voidship would have more of these tiny craft?

"We only have a frigate, we're lucky simply to have these aboard!"

"A frigate? Did you lose all your voidcraft in a battle?" I asked. How could a frigate not have more craft? Perhaps they had a truly fierce battle, a small contingent of ground troops to escort an officer, three voidcraft being all that remained? I might respect this man if it was a truly grand battle! That, or hate him due to his idiocy.

The mortal was about to reply, possibly feeling insulted but I raised my hand. "Regardless." I began. "You are correct, perhaps there is some other means of transporting us?"

"I don't know about that." The captain began to say, obviously pondering something. "Why don't we just have multiple trips? It would be the simplest way." The captain still pondering something.

"I would rather not be separated from my brothers. Surly you have another plan?" I said, the full truth. I was not fearful of my Rubricae falling in battle, but I always hated the idea of them being stranded in the void.

The mortal sighed, "The Batarians landed a transport not far from here, and we could give you a pilot. But are you able to perform an EVA? You know thrusters and such?" His plan was sound, and he made it seem like it could hold me, and my brothers. But I felt like his voidwar based question would be an attempt to pry out an advantage, whilst these mortals may be weak, they could have a few tricks up their sleeves."

"Yes, our armor contains magboots. We're fully capable of waging war in the void." Yet another truthful answer, but yet a threat at the same time.

"Alright we'll try it." The mortal then pointed to our northwest. "It's not far, Johannes will be your pilot." He gestured to young man who must have been in perhaps his early twenties, his fear of us showed.

"You have my thanks once again." I did not trust the man, not even the slightest. However, I desire to leave this rock with my brothers.

"You." I said to the pilot, causing him to jump slightly. "Let us head to this transport." He looked at his commander, unsure of the situation. The commander nodded, slightly reassuring the boy. He began to walk towards the larger transport.

My Rubricae formed behind me, and we marched.

* * *

Shepard carefully loaded Miranda onto the Kodiak. The other two began to return to the Normandy. Garrus glared at Shepard, occasionally glancing at the unconscious Cerberus operative.

"You're insane Shepard!" Garrus finally breaking the silence. "We should just blow them out of the sky!"

"And what, kill Johannes?" Shepard retorted.

"They could kill everyone aboard the Normandy! I don't want the kid dead, but if we do it, we'll save everyone aboard!"

"And what if you're wrong? What if they're assets? What if they survive our attack and somehow kill us because of our betrayal? If they wanted us dead they would have, this is the safest course of action!" Shepard swiftly explaining his reasoning, causing the Turian's mandibles to flare open.

"And what if you're wrong? You heard them, they just wanted off that world. Actually HE wanted off the world, his 'brothers' never said a damn word during any of this!" Garrus once again voicing his concern. Shepard began to realize his concern, processing the information that he had not considered at the time.

"They might be using a shared radio channel beneath their helmets, Alliance marines do the same thing. As for them killing us for the Normandy, do you expect them to know how to fly the most advanced ship in the galaxy? When they don't know what a Kodiak is?' Shepard believed his words fully.

"And what about this?" Garrus said pointing to Miranda. "He suddenly knew your language when he touched her head, and then she passed out!"

"That I can't explain." Shepard said as the Kodiak entered the Normandy's cargo bay. "Perhaps we'll find out soon enough." Starting to pick up Miranda, Shepard activated his Omni-tool and spoke into it. "We need medical teams down to the cargo bay. Ground, and security teams on alert as well!" Shepard looked at Garrus. "I'll still think of the worst case scenario."

* * *

The other transport was roughly the size of a Thunderhawk. If said Thunderhawk was only a transport. The shape of the vessel was far less sleek than the 'Kodiaks', but was still quite rounded, despite the black hull of the beast yet oh so slightly bearing a resemblance to a Space Hulk. Twenty five meters long, and possibly eight high, it had a large frontal door much like that of an Astartes craft. However the interior could not be any less Astartes. Upon entering there was a cavernous large bay. Cages lined the walls, poorly maintained cots, some with dried blood covering most of it. Our pilot was obviously shaken by this. While I'm uncertain if the Kroot like xeno had red blood, I could only assume the blood once belonged to a Human. For I was doubtful of any other creature being captured by the mutants.

"Pilot." My sudden speech frightening the boy. "Was this the vessel that those mutants owned?"

His confusion turned to rage, not dissimilar to most Imperials upon mention of the mutants beneath their feet. He turned to me. "I assume you mean the Batarians." Tears began to form in his eyes, from what I could see it was a combination of sorrow and rage. "It's because of these bastards that I joined Cerberus." He coiled his hands into fists.

"Remember this sight. So when you strike your foes down, you strike with retribution in your mind." His face turned to shock as I said this. Most likely not expecting words such as this. I was not expecting to sound like a post-heresy blind fanatic either.

"We'll destroy this vessel, and this foul sight. But not before we board your frigate." I concluded. The pilot nodded and headed towards a cockpit. It too reminded me of an Astartes craft, but without as much utility. No doubt such features were defiled by the mutants. If Techpriest Oxian were here he would destroy such sacrilege to end the Machine Spirit's suffering, I miss his wisdom already.

With a few button presses an image came to the central panel. It hovered off the surface, as the pilot pressed the air.

The device peaked my curiosity, Oxian mentioned things such as this, always stating they're rare as Imperator Titans. He was always pestering me to return with one so he could disassemble, and study it. Such thoughts lead to his near execution by the Mechanicus, but he escaped, and managed to shy away from the temptations of the Ruinous powers. Eventually leading him to me. He would truly love this place.

"What is that?" I finally decided to ask.

The pilot looked at me, seeing that my focus was on the display. "Oh." He finally responded. "It's a holographic display. If you give me just a few more seconds…" He continued pressing buttons, shortly after the cockpit exploded into an orange haze. Panels everywhere turned to life as floating images emerged from them. The pilot seeing my surprise laughed slightly. "Wait till you see the Normandy, she makes this looks like Childs play!" He said with a smile on his face. But if he spoke the truth, this would be a technological playground.

"I'm eager to see." I responded. "Do you know when we might arrive?"

"Well we'll leave atmo, in five minutes. After that it ranges from ten to twenty minutes, this isn't the fastest of ships." He reported, now somehow calmed by my prescience. But regardless, 'not the fastest of ships?' This vessel is both void capable and incredibly fast, no doubt it won't be able to traverse Ocean however.

"Is there a shipboard communications system?" I asked, the pilot took a moment to figure out what I meant and nodded. "Use it too tell me when we're about to arrive."

"Will do!" The pilot replied. If only the fool knew who he was transporting, he would no doubt be nowhere near collaborative.

* * *

"Shepard, we got a Batarian transport heading right for us with our 'special cargo'" Joker replied over the intercom.

"Alright, get ready." Shepard ordered his crew to take their positions. "Joker open up the cargo bay!"

"Got it Commander!" The doors began to open slowly, a blue field keeping the Normandy's atmosphere from being emptied into the void of space.

Garrus walked over to Shepard. "I truly hope you know what you're doing." He said to Shepard.

"I hope so too. Nothing like old times eh, Garrus?" This caused Garrus to slightly chuckle. As the ugly Batarian vessel approached the cargo bay.

* * *

"Alright, I'm shutting down the gravity." The pilot stated over the intercom. "We're going to jump across."

"Why in the Ocean would we jump? Just land this thing and then launch it into the void!" I yelled, why would we not land? We are to board a frigate, a vessel that could house at least five of such craft!

"We're boarding a frigate we can't ju-"

"Exactly!" I interrupted him. "Such a craft should no doubt store a vessel like this!"

"I'm opening the doors so you can see!" The pilot snapped back. Wait, he's doing what? The bastard, I'll flay him in front of his crew for this! My armor magnetically held the deck, same with my Rubricae.

The doors opened, I was not greeted by the sounds, and force of depressurization, but absolute silence. A blue field, like that when a void, or refractor field activating, separated me from the cold void. Looking across I could see the 'frigate'. An insulting title it was nowhere near a kilometer long. I saw the bay that I was supposed to jump to, it was bristling with activity. The vessel's crew awaiting our arrival, and to no doubt ambush us when the time is right.

"Alright I'm disabling gravity, you're going to jump into the cargo bay." The pilot repeated his idiotic instructions. Not only was it a difficult feat to jump in power armor, but if I miss slightly they won't catch me or my brothers even if they tried they could not stop us.

"I'm not jumping you idiot." I responded reaching out to the Ocean.

"What? You need to get across, and it's the only way!" the pilot retorted. I'm only growing more annoyed by these peoples idiocy. He did not see the eldritch energy begin to form around us.

* * *

"They vanished?" Most of the crew aboard the Normandy within the bay all said in unison. Disbelief at what they just witnessed, the ten giants disappearing into a pink haze.

"Okay Shepard, what the actual fuck?" Jack stopped slouching on a few crates when she made the comment.

"That sure as hell is new!" Garrus said looking all-around him.

"Focus everyone!" Shepard yelled, sensing panic on the rise. "Just stay on-" Before Shepard could finish his sentence a bright flash appeared in the cargo bay. The ten giants appeared in the front of him, but something else was with them.

It was like a blob of flesh, with teeth and claws. It began to pulsate and in a swift motion sprang into action. It reared up, launching tentacles from its underside grabbing a crewmember dragging the pool soul towards it. The crewmember began to scream, as the creature split revealing a colossal maw.

"Please god help me!" The crewman began to yell. A few of the crew began to fire with their Avengers, and pistols but many were far to terrified to even move. The extensive fire did little to slow it as it charged towards a group of the Normandy's crew, its prey still held firmly by the appendage. The crew member was thrown into the maw, his screams only ending in a shower of gore. It grabbed another crewman, ripping him into two. All while another appendage formed this time armed with razor sharp talons. As quickly as it formed it disemboweled another two crew, one falling lifelessly the other attempting to force her organs back into place. It's speed was almost that of a Mako. A round from Garrus managing to cut off the tentacle. Meanwhile Jack, and Jacob's biotics were managing to slow it down. But it maintained its murderous charge. Shotgun rounds from Grunt's weapon took small almost insignificant pieces out of the beast.

The whine from the Normandy's crew's weapons became almost inaudible once the booming sound from the giants weapons began. Chunks of the creature flew as their rounds made contact. Despite the damage of the flaming projectiles it maintained its determination.

Another booming sound erupted across the impromptu battlefield. "ENOUGH!" it yelled. The creature flew and levitated above the ground. It began to whine, either pleading or it being the only sound it could make. The leader of the giants approached arm outstretched. His third eye having turned from a deathly green, to a devilish red. He pulled out another weapon, "STAND BACK!" The giant ordered. A whine was heard, and a crimson beam was seen. In an instant a smoking hole appeared in the creature, and raining chunks of flesh landed all around with enough heat to active the fire protection system.

* * *

'How? How did that damnable pilot mutate into a spawn? It makes no sense.' I thought to myself as I began to taste my own blood. Transportation via the Ocean no matter what is a difficult task especially without the correct ritual. Even a short distance such as this with my Rubricae, and the pilot it's not only taxing, but extremely painful. Damn I need to rest.

"What the fuck was that 'Thing' bullshit" I turned to see the words came from a practically naked bald woman, she was odd during the fight. She threw what seemed to be 'Doombolts' at the spawn, but I sensed no ties to the Ocean, truly odd.

"A mistake, of walking straight into the deepest dark abyss." I responded perhaps louder than I was supposed to.

"Care to explain?!" The commander of the ship was the next to demand answers.

"It would appear your pilot could not handle the might of the Ocean." I responded, but how could someone that weak exist in this universe? He merely viewed a pond, not the true eldritch might of the Great Ocean.

"The Ocean? Where's Johannes? Tell me now!" The commander was becoming enraged.

"The Great Ocean, you may call it the Warp, or the Immaterium. As for your pilot." I merely gestured to the creature whose flesh was still melting due to my Serpentia.

"The Warp? What the hell are you talking about? How did Johannes turn into that thing!?" The commander once again proving his ignorance, while staring at the spawn.

The mere sight of the spawn absolutely disgusted me, a reminder of what was, and what might be my own fate. I reached out my hand, turning the remaining ball of flesh into an inferno of blue and purple flame. Shock erupted among the bystanders. 'Have they never seen, or heard of a psyker before? If so these people are more ignorant then the savage Tau!' I thought to myself.

"The dimension of reality parallel to your own? Are you truly all fools?" Frustration began to build within my mind, as they looked with shock, and confusion.

The commander was about to speak before I interrupted him. "My mind is weary, and must rest. I will enlighten you on the true nature of your world after I have gathered my thoughts. Please, I request private sanctuary." I was being kind, I could have forced the truth onto his mind, but I desperately needed rest.

The commander looked at his crew. A small sub-group in particular. Either he's playing a fool, and has a psychic communication with them. A possibility I deemed highly unlikely. Or he can read their expressions for their opinions. Regardless I'm too tired to care about it at this point.

"We'll grant you, and your team quarters." He began, "But you all need to head to the med-bay for a checkup. After that you must be monitored at all times."

"We accept all these conditions, except the last one. We must have privacy." I replied, I don't like being watched by those I don't trust.

"No exceptions!" He yelled what seemed to be an order, clearly looking at the site of the spawn's rampage.

I pondered this, he had the strength to stand up to an Astartes. He has seen our capabilities, and dares to stand against us. I hope his inner strength is not a façade for his crew.

"I shall honor your request, but know that I'm doing it of my own accord. And also know that you don't order an Astartes to do anything, we have the final say in your request." I stated, I swear I draw more similarities to those who follow the Codex Astartes when dealing with mortals such as these every day.

I noticed the confusion upon the mortals faces, even the Kroot xeno had a 'confused' expression.

"I suppose we should at least get the basic of introductions concluded. We are Legionnaires Astartes of the Fifteenth Legion. The Thousand Sons, the scions of Magnus, and seekers of knowledge." I stated with pride filling my hearts at our mighty name.

"Commander John Shepard, and this is my ship the SSV Normandy SR2." The Commander responded.

"Can you show us to the med-bay?"

"Yes, follow me." I still felt the rage in his mind, it's understandable. After all I did accidently condemn one of his crew to a fate worse than death, and through that killing more of his crew as a result.

* * *

"So…" Jack said to Zaeed. "Think they're elves? I mean the talk of 'sanctuary' and shit."

"No, he's a goddamn Sorcerer, followed by a bunch of slaves!" Zaeed responded.

Jacob jumping into the conversation "Look at their armor, I've never seen anything like it!" Pointing at the 'Astartes' boarding the elevator in perfect order.

"Perhaps he's a biotic with a bunch of robots. No living thing can possess that much firepower." Garrus stated throwing in his two credits.

"Bet you they can't beat me outside of their armor!" Grunt boasted with a smile across his face.

"Five hundred on elves!" Jack yelled.

"You're on!" Zaeed joined in on the bet.

"Anyone else?" Jack asked the team playfully.

"I wouldn't joke about this Jack." Garrus said.

"You're no fun Garrus!" Jack responded with a grin.

* * *

How this ship is classified as a frigate amazes me. While it's no doubt larger than a Thunderhawk, even a Stormbird it is in no way a frigate. However it does possess some charm. Its rounded halls, while claustrophobic proved quite visually appealing. It was also remarkably clean, my reflection shown on some of the walls. The technology was also impressive, not as remarkable as I believed it would be, but the Commander said there's four main decks, and we're going to the crew deck. The lift stopped with little force, unlike that of our own vessels. Stepping off the lift we walked past a board of sorts showing the names of people.

"Fallen crew I assume?" I asked the Commander.

"Yes, from the original Normandy. I suppose we'll be adding more soon." He said, with an accusing tone. Not that I blame him, it was somewhat my fault.

"I'm sorry for your losses." I began, truthfully the souls of those who one was leading always follow their leader. Mine stand by my side still. "But to lose so few, you're a good leader." While that statement was a mere wedge of truth, losses show experience. Each soul is a lesson in its self.

He was silent looking for perhaps another meaning in my words, but he merely gestured me to follow. He pointed to his left as we walked. "This is the mess hall, whenever you need food this is the place." I nodded to show my understanding. He then pointed forward. "And that's the med-bay, where you'll be given translation chips, and given a medical examination."

"You have my thanks." I responded. Kindness, and being polite might let the mortals lower their guard around me. I don't wish them to think I'll turn them all into spawn in a moment's notice. At least when it's not needed.

It must have been imposing for the old woman, who seemed to be a doctor of some sort. To be checking on her other patient only to see ten of Humanities finest walk through the door. I then noticed her other patient, it was the women whose knowledge I ripped out of her mind. The room was far cleaner than even the rest of the ship, flawless in all regards. Medical cabinets fully stocked, and some beds sporting a servo arm system. If only many other ships had such elegance.

"Dr. Chakwas. These are your next patients." Shepard stated.

The doctor was in a minor state of shock. It would seem that she was expecting those wounded by the spawn to show up on her door. She had what seemed like surgical equipment on standby.

"It'll be a checkup, and having translation implants installed." Shepard said what was needed of her.

"I see." Her state of shock at disappeared very quickly, such an action I've not seen since the Solar Auxila. "Well, you'll need to remove your armor-"

"That, I will not do." I said turning to the Commander, he was eying me in a fashion that would make any non-Astartes take a step back. "Need I remind you, that you don't order me? I only fulfill requests deemed reasonable." He maintained his stare, thinking he'll make me back down. I turned to the doctor. "I'll permit you to scan me, if you have such technology. Along with I'll answer any medical related questions." I then turned once again to Shepard. "But I will not remove my armor."

He was about to speak up, but the doctor interrupted him. "That'll be fine." She said, nodding to the Commander as he left.

After he left leaving us with the doctor, and her unconscious patient. "The only problem will be the translation implants. It's a simple procedure, but I won't be able to do it with that armor on."

"Then I'll do it myself."

"Don't be as stubborn as a child." She retorted.

"Child!" This made me laugh "I've lived far too long to be deemed a child!"

"But yet you sure act like one."

"You have courage 'young one', few insult an Astartes without facing death. Regardless let us continue with this examination." I said, causing her to sigh.

A blue ray of light erupted from an orange device attached to her arm.

"What are you using to scan me with?" I inquired, it appeared like a holographic Auspex scanner, but also a Mechanicum data device.

She looked up from the device. "This is an Omni-Tool. Everyone aboard has one."

A device such as this, but everyone has one. Oxian would truly wish to be here.

The woman sighed. "I'm unable to scan through the armor. It's an unknown alloy, and of course all this tech can't do anything it does not know."

This statement made me laugh. No doubt to her it was a booming roar. Oxian said something similar, but he loved the unknown. A never ending desire to make it bend to his will, and become something of use. Truly he would be at home here.

"Perhaps we can move onto questions doctor?" She nodded at the suggestion.

"Alright first off as you refuse to remove your armor." She said in a spiteful tone. I did not have to read her mind to know what she was thinking. 'Why do you have to make this so difficult?' "I'll have to use 'basic' first contact protocol." First contact protocol, while such a concept was amusing to think of it was a ridiculous notion.

"Very well, let us begin." I responded, this would no doubt be interesting.

"What is your name?" She asked. Truly if this was protocol how did these humans not become extinct yet? Regardless, they don't deserve my true name.

"I am titled 'Outcast' within my legion."

"Your race is the, 'Astartes' correct?" How could a human not know of us?

"Perhaps your lost colony may know us as 'Space Marines'" I responded, if they did not know High Gothic they would not know our name.

"It does not ring any bells, but 'lost colony'?" She asked, once again showing an extreme amount of ignorance.

"Your world was no doubt separated from Terra during the Age of Strife. It would seem the Great Crusade had not brought you back to the realms of man."

Her face showed her confusion. "I see." She said. "You mentioned you're far too old to be called a child, how old are you?"

"Over eleven millennia, I no longer count." And besides time is meaningless in the Ocean.

Her eyes widened. I cared not for her shock, in my eyes I'm ageless. "The translation implants?" I asked, growing more tired as time dragged on.

"Like I said you need a professional to-"

"I will perform whatever is needed. Just tell me!" I know my lenses turned red as psychic energy began to course through me.

She handed me a box of syringes. "It's a sub-dermal implant, I recommend a location near the brain." She stated.

"Why would anyone need a professional for this? This is far simpler than most aid kits." I inquired.

"Because without anesthesia it's a highly painful procedure."

"I've fought for far too long to be bothered by such things. Where will I be staying?"

She activated her 'Omni-tool' and spoke into it. "Shepard, we're done in here."

The Commander entered the med-bay, and gestured me to follow. The doctor returned to observing the woman's vitals. 'She'll live' I thought to myself.

We approached a room on the starboard side of the ship. Two guards stood at attention at the door. 'They won't stop us' Remembering how useless their firearms are.

"This is where you'll stay for now. We'll have a meeting at 0800." Shepard said. The room maintained the same clean, and sleek appearance as the rest of the ship. The room was mostly dominated by a large window, with a few pieces of furniture around.

"You once again have my thanks." He nodded at my response.

+Let us rest here my brothers.+ They marched into the room, and took guard positions around it.

The Commander was perplexed by my Rubric Marines actions. No doubt it was odd for anyone to see the ever silent Rubricae act with such perfection.

The door sealed after they entered.

'At long last.' I sat in the center of the room surrounded by my Rubricae.

I reached for the seals of my helmet, before stopping. They can no doubt see everything. I scolded myself due to my moment of laxity. I reached out my mind to see if anything was indeed watching. I found nothing, but I feel being watched.

"Show yourself observer, make your presence known!" I ordered.

Perhaps paranoia was once acting upon me. I once again prepared to remove my helmet, but a blue light appeared from a panel protruding from a wall.

"What are you?" I asked it, hand not leaving my bolt pistol holster.

"My name is EDI, the Normandy's Artificial Intelligence." It responded.

A familiar name, if I recall correctly Oxian told me about such things, but he used a different title. What was it?

'An Artificial Intelligence? An AI. An Abominable Intelligence!'


	4. Chapter 3: Answers

Not going to lie, I'm shocked that anyone is really taking notice of this. Thank you.

* * *

Chapter 3: Answers

Why does this thing even exist? Such constructs have rarely been seen, even within the Eye I've only heard rumors of AIs being created. Despite the 'rogue' nature of the Dark Mechanicum many within stray away from them, with good reason. The tendency to be simple daemon hosts, along with the fact that these creations led too much of mankind's downfall at the dawn of The Age of Strife! According to my own studies, and those of the Mechanicus, it made the Great Betrayal seem small.

"Is something wrong?" The light had the nerve to ask.

My Rubricae formed into columns near the door. I looked at the red 'hologram', and attempted to interact with it. The door refused to open.

"How do I open this, abomination!?" I ordered the machine.

"You are not permitted to leave. Not until the crew is ready to convene with you." The machine responded.

'Pathetic!' I thought to myself. 'As if this thing can order me what to do!' I felt my mind reach out to the door, prepared to rip it open. I stopped myself. If I do this, I'll have to kill every last thing aboard this vessel. A simple task of course, but not while they still have some use to me. I cursed myself, any of my other brothers would no doubt have a simple solution to this.

I calculated the possibilities, all ending with the crew dead, or mad, and all of us lost in the void. I looked at my brothers, standing in perfect silence. Unlike the days of the Crusade I have no one to have council with. Perhaps it's also for the best, as we would no doubt decide to kill everyone aboard.

My pondering stopped as I looked at the panel, now silent as the 'AI' felt it was no longer needed, but yet I still felt it watching. 'Perhaps it's a Machine Spirt made to act in such a fashion? Perhaps to impose fear when needed?' Extremely doubtful, but I truly hoped I was right.

"AI." I began, "What is your purpose?" Perhaps a conversation with it would ease my mind, or confirm my suspicions.

The blue light appeared. "My purpose aboard the Normandy is to operate the electronic warfare suite, and provide information" The light stated in a feminine voice.

'Electronic warfare?' perhaps Oxian would have a better idea of the concept. "How many servitors assist you in this task?" I asked, hoping it's just a visual representation of those lobotomized to serve in a task.

"I do not understand the question." It responded.

It would seem that I was a blind fool, hoping that it was not a true AI. I should know that hope is only a means to disappointment. I could not leave this thing functional, it's a threat to not only my brothers, and my own safety. It's also a threat to everyone aboard the vessel.

"Abominable Intelligence." I spoke its true title. "If I were to attempt to escape from this room, what could you manage?"

The AI was silent for a moment. Oxian said once that if safeguards were placed on an AI it would only be capable of so much, before learning how to break free from them. I hope that we're both right in our assumptions.

"I'm capable of sealing the room, and redirecting atmospheric flow to a level that would cause a loss of consciousness." This statement caused me to smile beneath my helmet. We can survive much harsher conditions than any other creature, even without our armor. I thanked Oxian under my breath, his rants have saved me many times, and now they save this crew, temporarily.

My Rubricae returned to their positions with a silent order as I sat in the center of the room. +Perhaps they'll still be of use to us my brothers.+

* * *

Shepard approached the galaxy map. This day had been hell, he had fully accepted the odds. He knew full well many would not survive the campaign against the Collectors, fewer still when the Reapers arrive. But for such gruesome, and in all honesty pointless deaths weighed heavily on Shepard's mind.

"I have the after action report compiled, and ready." Shepard turned to see the redheaded Kelly Chambers behind him. "Do you wish to view it before it's sent to the Illusive Man?"

Shepard took the report, reading the carnage not only on the surface but aboard the Normandy. He noticed something most other reports did not have, while most reports featured short segments of video, this had the entire assignment's camera feed attached.

"Why is there this much video attached to this?" Shepard asked, pointing out the inconsistency.

"The Illusive Man had an exceptional amount of interest in every moment of the mission." Kelly reported.

"Did he state why?" Shepard inquired, while it was easy to see. The Illusive Man didn't care about any other assignment. Recruitment missions he only had photographs, and the Freedom's Progress was only twenty seconds of footage.

"Actually, you can ask him yourself. He wishes to see you in the briefing room." Kelly stated with some vigor, almost as if he was visiting himself.

Shepard sighed, he normally would not want to speak to the man after a mission like this, but he wants answers more than anything. "Send the report Kelly." He ordered to the Ensign, as he walked through the armory to the briefing room.

The table lowered, and the orange holographic walls extended.

"Shepard, I see the operation was a success." The Illusive Man's eyes staring into the screen, slightly reminding Shepard of the Astartes.

"I wouldn't call it a success until we know the results." Shepard retorted, despite it being Cerberus crew members, they were still his crew.

"Indeed, but considering you have ten unknowns in your observation room. I would consider that a success."

"What if they betray us? And seeing their weaponry first hand, they can kill everyone onboard!" Shepard yelled at the Illusive Man for the first time of working with Cerberus.

"You don't need to trust them, but you need to make them trust YOU!" the Illusive Man retorted. "Imagine their weaponry against the Collectors, or the Reapers! We can win with them on our side!"

Shepard sighed. "How should we go about this? They're still completely unknown." If he wanted these Astartes on his side, he would need any advice he could get.

"I recommend you start with Dr. Chackwas's report." The Illusive Man stated while lighting his cigarette. "EDI has also noted he's weary of AIs, so attempt to calm him on that."

"Noted, anything else?"

"You mentioned in the report that they must use a radio channel between them all. EDI has detected no outbound, or inbound signals from them."

"I see. What if I can't get them on our side?" Shepard asked, fearful of the answer.

"Dispose of them as you see fit." The Illusive Man stated as he shut down the transmission.

* * *

The bodies that could be recovered were sent to the science lab on the second deck. Undergoing autopsy by the Salarian scientist Mordin Solus. A few fragments from the creature managed to survive the incineration by the Astartes leader.

Mordin watched the footage from the cargo bay with a knowledge hungry fury. He had noticed the flash, and materialization of the Astartes had produced zero emissions according to all scanners.

"That can't be right." Mordin muttered to himself while re-watching the same footage at varying speeds. "Nothing, it's as if they truly just appeared. No readings what so ever." Mordin's mind calculated all the possibilities. None could scientifically support such a sudden appearance.

He grew strained by this, and decided to move onto another subject, the creature. Footage shows it moving at a high speed, despite not having any visible limbs. However slowing down the footage shows it more so leapt at the crew. Using a few of its' tentacles as propulsion, however it was later shifting to have legs, but was killed before the process concluded. "Improbable, rapid mutation is unlikely in such a large organism. Yet not completely impossible." By the time Mordin finished muttering this to himself the DNA analysis was finished.

It was a heavy mutation from crewman Erik Johannes. "How was such a rapid mutation possible? No toxic, or biological contaminants was found on any of the remains. More so, it's such a deviation from the human physiology that something like this would require generations of mutation"

Mordin swiftly typed his findings on a data-slate. He watched the Astartes opened fire on the beast. "Weapons seem combustion projectile based, no doubt high explosive, fire appearance no doubt incendiary coating of some kind." Mordin slowed the footage down as he watched the leader of the Astartes step forward, watching as he raised his hand, lifting the beast up effortlessly. Mordin looked over the scanners at the time of the footage being captured. "No Ezero emissions? Impossible, all biotics release at least trace amounts of Ezero when using their abilities!" He resumed the footage, than the Astartes drew his sidearm, Mordin slowed the footage to its' slowest possible setting. He saw a crimson beam instantly make contact with the beast. "An energy weapon, in such a small size with no external power source? Impossible, no one can manage such a technological marvel!" He slightly sped up the footage and saw the carnage. He noticed the reports of the fire suppression had been triggered, he turned to the thermal imaging. The fragments of the beast showing a bright white, the best estimate showing it was like that of a furnace.

"How is this possible, near instant explosive reaction? Along with the extremely high temperature of the impacted area." Mordin once again began mental calculations, thinking of the sheer number of scientific impossibilities presented by these newcomers.

* * *

Rumors began to spread amongst the crew. Many believe they encountered a new alien race, but some began to create wild theories that caused fear to spread like wildfire. A few believed that it was an underground organization, far beyond the power of Cerberus, operating both clandestine, and galactically. Another group believed it was Collectors, or those who made deals with collectors. The final group believed they're figures of some religion to save, or destroy them. One crewman called them the 'Angels of Death' not knowing how close to the truth such a statement would be.

The sorcerer merely waited, gathering information from the crew without them ever knowing.

* * *

I had let my soul leave my body as I rested. The Ocean in such a docile state was odd to say the least. I felt that I could lower my guard, and not fear becoming overcome by it. Many things are foreign to an Astartes, peace is definably one of those things. To set down arms is an unknown concept for all Astartes, but such peace in the Immaterium, it is foreign only to the Thousand Sons. I had made innumerable attempts to contact the rest of the legion, but I've heard nothing still.

My soul returned to my body, no more, or less knowledgeable. I looked at my Rubricae, who as expected did not move a single step. I observed each of them, physically, then psychically. No difference, just an idle, silent husk of a hero confined into his armor. My armor's sensors told me that I had rested for five hours, longer then I desired or needed, but it meant I did not need to sit idly with every move watched by that Abominable Intelligence for as long.

So I waited, reading the troubled, and worried thoughts of the crew. It was odd in the simplicity of it. Normally there's a barrier to enter one's mind, mostly due to an innate connection to the Ocean, or perhaps propaganda. Yet here there's no such barrier here, in essence it's as if I'm surrounded by blind children, while I'm the only one with my vision intact.

* * *

Shepard had a restless night, everything was counting on convincing the Astartes to join them against the Collectors. Having such might on their side would indeed nearly guarantee a victory. He dressed into his Cerberus uniform, and activated his Omni-Tool. "I need my team to the briefing room. In ten minutes permit the Astartes to head to the room." Shepard spoke into his Omni-Tool, with iron determination. He hoped that the deaths among his crew would not be meaningless, but their lives end value would be determined in one discussion.

The briefing room started to fill with the primary team. Garrus, Jacob, and Mordin being the first to arrive. Shortly after Jack, Grunt, and Zaeed arrived cracking jokes as they entered. Lastly much to everyone's shock, Miranda entered the room with an ice pack over her head.

"Good to see you in one piece!" Shepard said with genuine joy, she was good at her job, and would no doubt help in this endeavor.

"Good to be back, Commander." Miranda said in pain. "I guess I know what Ryncol feels like now."

"Jacob, and Mordin will fill you in." The Commander said, gesturing to the two on the upper right of the table.

Miranda went over to the two, obviously in pain as she was briefed on the situation.

'Two more minutes' Shepard thought to himself.

"Wait!" Miranda said over the group. "We're letting them join the team?"

"Seeing their capabilities, both the Illusive Man, and myself believe we would be better off with them on our team." Shepard explained to the XO

Miranda was silent, if the Illusive Man had approved of this. It must mean the situation truly is grim.

The team was silent, Grunt's breathing, and the hum of the ship being the only audible thing. A blue light broke the silence "They've arrived onto deck 2, and are currently proceeding through the armory."

It seemed as if everyone held their breath. They could all be killed by them as soon as the door opened, perhaps become one of those 'things'. Yet they did not panic, they did not let any fear of this unknown force overcome them. They were ready for the Astartes.

The door opened to reveal three pairs of glowing turquoise eyes, they marched into the room after the first three entered, another three, and then another. The nine exquisitely crafted suits of armor moved to surround the room, as if to form a perimeter. At last the final Astartes arrived, with its' soul piercing gaze from its third eye, the regal crimson robes seemed to flow as if there was a light breeze.

"You sure know how to make an entrance!" Jack said with a smirk across her face. Shepard hoped to any deity that the giant did not take offence to such a comment.

"You no doubt have questions, as do I. You are permitted to ask, as I have offended your party first." The Astartes stated, thankfully ignoring Jack's comment.

"Yes, we've already organized a series of questions. Should we begin?" Shepard asked, hoping that this will go off without a hitch. After all there was no contingency plan.

"Before we begin." The helmet made every comment made by the Astartes to be a monstrous distortion of human speech. "I have yet to install this, 'translation chip'. I will not understand your xeno allies, unless." He gestured to Miranda.

"That's not really an option. Can I ask why you have not had it installed yet?"

"As stated before, I will not remove my armor. Especially when an 'Abominable Intelligence' is always watching." The giant stated, his voice turning into a growl upon mentioning the AI.

"Why do you call it that?" Miranda inquired, hoping to squeeze any information out.

"I see you have lost much of your history." He audibly sighed. "The revolt of the Men of Iron, it was one of the many great conflicts in human history."

The members of the table looked at one another in confusion. "Do you mean the Geth?" Jacob asked.

"If that is what you call the Men of Iron, then yes. They led to the deaths of trillions, if that description matches." The table grew an expression of varying levels of shock, the only exception being Grunt.

"Trillions?" Jacob asked through his shock. "But there's roughly eleven billion humans throughout the galaxy."

"Do you believe the galaxy only consists of a single hive? I can assure you that we've long since spread across the galaxy." The Astartes stated as if it was a simple fact.

After a few brief moments Shepard spoke. "We've already explored most of the galaxy."

"Doubtful, without psykers your ships could not enter the Ocean to traverse the great distances between the stars."

"Psykers, the 'Ocean'. I don't understand these concepts." Miranda said not only to the Astartes, but to the rest of the team.

The Astartes once again sighed. "The Great Ocean, known by some as the immaterium, others refer it as the 'Warp', a few know it as the Realm of Souls. A plane of existence where emotion its self becomes a Meta-physical manifestation. However, you cannot see the Warp, but anything within the Warp can see you. That is also what happened to your pilot. A few, such as myself can bring what should not exist into our reality."

The crew remained silent, pondering this information. "That is why no emissions showed when you appeared, and when you used biotics against the creature!" Mordin exclaimed, causing the Astartes to look at the amphibian like creature, before turning to Shepard. Who then restated what the Salarian said to the Astartes.

"I'm uncertain what these 'biotics' are. Could you please explain?"

"It's the shit that I wreak things with!" Jack yelled as a joke. Her head arched toward the table, almost as if something hit the back of her.

"Speak only when you have something productive to say." The Astartes said in a guttural growl. "But these biotics have no connection to the Immaterium. And are no doubt far weaker than anything I could muster." He said almost challenging to Jack.

She shut up, anger building in her, but he simply stated. "I've been able to single handedly kill fifteen Chaos Spawn with my mind alone, whilst one could kill most if not all of you. So if you wish to challenge me, have feats to prove it."

"Regardless," The giant continued. "The Abominable Intelligence is a threat to everyone aboard, and recommend its immediate destruction."

"Cerberus has established innumerable safeguards on it." Miranda stated

"Safeguards will always be bypassed, loopholes learnt, and it may gain your trust. A revolt always festers in silence." He countered.

Shepard raised his hand, if there was to be an argument the simple action ended it. "Your warning will be noted, and much appreciated." Shepard was always weary about EDI, after learning about the Geth from Tali it only worsened his distrust. However he was hoping to gain the trust of the Astartes as much as possible.

* * *

They began to ask simple questions, slightly more prying versions of the doctor's. Each I responded in the same manor, either a half or altered truth. Why would they have the right to know about us? They also began to ask about my history. They have no right to know of the more recent legacy of my legion. Perhaps it was a sense of pride long since lost, but I could not stop talking about my legion's ancient history, when we were the preservers of ancient knowledge, of course leaving out the curse that we had. The expressions I received were ones of disbelief, few slightly believing my tale, most however believed I was lying, surprisingly it was the few pieces of truth I gave. I however stopped when we reached the point of our fall, they don't deserve such knowledge.

"I see." The Commander stated. I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck for such a comment. Blind mortals such as you could never see what I've witnessed. "We still have two unanswered questions: Firstly why don't you remove your armor?"

I would have killed the mortal for the question, but I had made this one of my demands on more than one account. "It's ceremonial, we only remove our armor around our brothers." This was another half-lie, I myself rarely remove it. An oath I made to my Rubricae, if they were to be sealed within their armor, I will bear the pain as well until they return. The number of times I've been called a 'sentimental fool' by my brothers is innumerable. When I do remove it, it's only for food, and repairs. Along with my Rubricae, I've only removed it in presence of Oxian, and Ahriman. It's odd, despite the mockery from my brothers, only Ahriman truly accepts or perhaps even respects my oath. I believe he only knows how hard the Rubric struck me, or perhaps he views me as a living embodiment of his mistake. There was also one other time I removed my armor, in seemingly a long lost age. "This is why I requested quarters without any observation what so ever." I continued.

"I'll see what I can do about your request." The Commander stated. "As for our final question: We wish to know more about your wargear, while it's undeniably powerful, having knowledge on it may assist us in resupplying you."

Why would he seek to resupply us? I understand his desire to learn of our equipment, knowing this you can easily know how to defeat ones foes. I sifted through his mind, looking for any deceit. Much to my surprise, I sensed none, leading me to three conclusions. Firstly, he could be truthful, but there's little to gain from that. Secondly, he's blind, and another is pulling his strings similar to that of the Alpha Legion's operations. Or thirdly, he's the best liar I've ever met, once again doubtful due to the pitiful resistance offered by their minds.

"If you chose to be deceitful Commander, I can assure you the .75 bolt shells from my brothers can see through any lie. So why do you ask?" I chose to humor him, by providing him a simple morsel of information, while calling out any deceit.

"I suppose we should tell you the truth." He responded.

'I knew he was a lying bastard!' I thought to myself.

"We're on a dangerous mission against a race known as the Collectors. They've abducted entire human colonies without a trace. And we're hoping for you to join us against them." This response was what I was not at all expecting, not only he wanted me to be allies, but wishes for it despite full knowledge of what I've done.

"Why?" It was the only word I could mutter as I considered every possible deceitful reason for this request.

"I believe with you, and your brothers fighting along our side, the odds of us failing, or dying in this would drop significantly." The Commander looked around him as he said this, once again I sensed no deceit in his mind.

"You say they threaten humanity?" I asked

"Yes, they attack the colonies using an insect of sorts to disable the colonists, and their defenses. And leave with every man, woman, and child before a response is even close to arrival." He stated, the description of strategy reminds me of the Dark Eldar.

"I swore an oath to humanity, to be its shield, and its sword. We accept your request, until time has deemed it necessary for us to leave this endeavor." A smile creeped across his face. "But, I insist that you fulfill our requirements if you wish to have us aboard for long." I chose to remind him of this.

He moved his arm up raising his hand to his brow. If I remember correctly it was a sign that guardsmen used to show that one's officer is superior, perhaps they may learn their place after all.

He then pointed to each of the crew among us, stating their rank and role among the 'team' as he called it. After he did this he turned to me. "I'll see about shutting all of the observation equipment in the starboard room to be shut down."

"My thanks Commander." I turned and prepared to exit the room, before I turned back. "What year is it Commander?"

"2185, why do you ask?" He responded.

"Just confirming something." It would appear I was right. I'm in an existence before the Age of Strife. If they have truly explored the galaxy, perhaps fate is indeed cruel.

I exited the room, proceeding the same way I entered. The armory was loaded with the pitiful excuses of weaponry that the crew uses. But heading back to the lift I saw the true amount of technology onboard. I made a mental note to see what each device does. Once again wishing Oxian could see all of this.

* * *

Shepard silently laughed to himself before muttering. "Everything might go right for once." He pulled off something that he thought would be impossible, but more than anything else. No sacrifice was in the end meaningless.

* * *

EDI watched as the team scattered amongst the ship, heading to their respective stations. Suddenly warning klaxons began wailing in the AI's internal machinery, 'No sensory input: Starboard Observation Room' it sounded. In mere nanoseconds they were dismissed. It was an unavoidable consequence of recruiting the Astartes, but due to lack of concrete data they were labeled 'Ally Unknown'. EDI continuously streamed the surveillance footage to the Illusive Man, the Astartes moved into a visual black hole. Once the door sealed the Astartes could breach the ship with no warning. The sheer possibilities caused EDI to calculate an increasing number of actions that the Astartes would take to claim the ship, or to kill her. The AI simply waited, and endlessly calculated.

* * *

I reentered what would be deemed my quarters for the duration of this campaign. Perhaps it might be days, perhaps years, but I was not bound to this quest. I could leave as soon, or as late as I wished. I would no doubt leave once the mortals have lost all usefulness, but for now they'll make fine pawns. However the near reverence shown by the crew to this 'Shepard' shows me he may be of far greater use.

Once again I reached for the seals of my helmet, feeling unobserved now. Taking it off and putting it at my side. I reached up, and felt my scars for the first time in seemingly ages. I was swiftly reminded of the horrible fate nearly claimed me before we found our primarch. Nearly a quarter of my face shows how close I was. Most other Astartes would think I was hit by a promethium bomb.

They also reminded me of my fears of the Rubric being cured. I always asked 'would the Flesh Change return?' However I started to wonder, would it affect us here? I could not test, nor would I want to, but it was an interesting concept. Our Apothecaries would often say it was a genetic fault, but a few stated it was due to our connection with the Ocean.

I looked at the syringe the doctor handed me, a small amount of liquid, and a tiny machine within it. I pinched some of my skin, and injected the contents of the syringe. It had a slight effect after injection, after which it felt as if someone was probing my mind, then nothing.

Grabbing my helmet, I ensured there was little damage to it. Thankfully, no damage occurred due to the Death Guard, or the Wolves. Putting the helmet on and sealing it. The familiar ting of the filtered air returned to my lungs, I decided to grab some food and return to my quarters, perhaps they cook better than most of the thralls.

It was a short walk, but as soon as I entered the mess hall every mortal turned to face me. The most noteworthy was the lizard like xeno, known as Grunt, along with the avian xeno, Garrus I believe. I assumed the rest of the crew must have eaten already, due to the lack of prepared food.

The one known as Grunt looked at me, almost as if he was watching prey. "What are you?" It asked.

The question took me off guard, I had my doubts about the creature. I had previously guessed it was there for simple combat, a single minded automation. Due to this I assumed it had little brain function, perhaps equal to that of an Ork, but it would seem I was wrong.

"What do you mean by this question, xeno?"

"What are you beneath the armor? You're obviously not human. The imprints say humans are physically weak, but yet you're not." I felt offended by the xeno, what idiotic xeno would imprint that humans are weak?

"I am indeed human, xeno. However I am also superior to an average human, but let me assure you. Humans are the superior race in the galaxy, what you see before you is the pinnacle of mankind. So I recommend you learn your place." My voice no doubt dripped with venom, but searching the xeno's mind for a brief moment showed its' uncertainty of me was replaced with an unproven envy, or perhaps respect. An odd reaction. I then turned and counter with an older man standing behind it.

"Rupert Gardner, Normandy Mess sergeant." The man behind the counter introduced himself to me, slightly impressed when I spoke for the honor of humanity to the xeno.

"Where can I acquire food?" I asked.

"Well you missed breakfast, so what's left is in the fridge." He told me.

I nodded, and opened the refrigeration unit. It was remarkably small, perhaps it was a sub containment unit? Looking at the prepared food I grabbed a container with a red label, and left for my quarters.

After removing my helmet I looked at the meal, it was a meat stew of sorts, but the fragments of meat, and color of the water appeared like something oddly familiar. Its texture was unique, but its' flavor was also exquisite. It reminded me of the food from Prospero. That's why it appeared familiar! How could I have forgotten? I swiftly finished the stew, and sealed my helmet. Once again upon entering the mess hall the mortals stared at me once more.

"Sergeant, where did you acquire this?" I asked, showing him the container. Strangely his eyes widened, he looked at me as if it was taboo to eat it, or perhaps he expected me to keel over dead in a moment.

"Doctor!" He yelled. I looked behind me to see the old women spring to action, grabbing a first aid kit as she sprinted over.

"What's wrong Rupert?" She looked at me, perhaps thinking I injured someone.

The mess sergeant looked at me before saying "He ate a whole container of Dextro food!"

"Is something wrong?" I felt perfectly fine, perhaps even better after eating.

"Is something wrong?" The avian xeno, Garrus repeated what I said, I noted the odd 'growl' when he spoke, it was interesting to hear. "If a human eats dextro food they either end up dead, or if their lucky in the hospital for a week!"

"I can assure you I feel fine. I merely wish to learn where such food was acquired?" I repeated my question. Why must everyone focus on my actions? Thralls aboard every ship I've been on either avoided me, or never commented on my actions. Yet these mortals focus on my every move as if it was some piece of knowledge, which everyone argues the true meaning of. That, or the religious scripture of fanatics.

"Are you positive?" The doctor inquired.

"If it was toxic, I can assure you my preomnor would filter it out!" In my annoyance I yelled out one of our nineteen additional organs. Information I was reluctant to give, I scorned myself for the sudden outburst.

"Preomnor, what's that?" I should have known she would push for more information.

"It's an organ." I replied simply, the complexities of Astartes physiology would be lost to a mortal. "I'm still waiting for an answer to my question, Mess Sergeant." Venom began to drip from my voice as the situation annoyed me more, and more.

The sergeant was stricken by a sudden fear, I noticed not only was I subconsciously drawing my psychic might, but that I called upon my Rubricae as well. They stood behind me, almost waiting for an order to kill everything on board. +I did not mean to call upon you my brothers, please return to our sanctuary.+ Upon my order they turned and returned to our quarters. I once again looked upon the man. "Will you answer my question?"

"Just ask anywhere for Turian food." He sighed in relief as I turned around to return to my quarters. I felt his fear peak when I turned back to him.

"And what is a Turian?"

He pointed towards Garrus. "He's a Turian."

I felt as if my stomach dropped. 'Xenos, of course it's the food of xenos.' I thought to myself. 'Fate truly is cruel, first appear before the Age of Strife, and now the food of my home is that of xenos.' I began to walk back to my quarters, but Shepard stood between me, and my quarters.

"Everything alright?" He inquired, "I heard most, but not all of it."

"Yes, everything is fine." I responded, I merely wished to return to my quarters to meditate.

He gestured to the room on the portside of the ship. "I heard that you had no idea what Turians are. There's a couple of extranet terminals in there."

I tilted my head to show my confusion. "What is this 'extranet'?" My inquiry caused both the commander, and a few of the crew to chuckle. It's odd seeing how quickly they turn from fear to humor.

"It's a system that allows you to look up any information you wish. I recommend you give it a look, familiarize yourself with everything. Last thing we need in battle is a fish out of water." The last comment made him smile slightly.

"May I offer you some advice Commander?" Such things normally have a price, but yet what I was going to say is instilled in nearly everyone who lives in the galaxy.

"Sure." He responded, slightly cheerfully.

"Knowledge is the only true power in the galaxy, guard it well." I began to walk past Shepard toward the room he pointed towards. 'After all, if needed you possibly gave me the means of your destruction mortal, might as well let you see where you failed.'

* * *

Some brief Q&A:

KunnegAndris: While the Thousand Sons won't physically be repainting their armor anytime soon, while the core concept of 'Going Red' is definitely going to be present. Let's just say in a peaceful galaxy, something bred for war will have a lot of time to think about their past.

kukuhimanpr: 'The Outcast' simply holds his brothers, both those who are Rubricae, and those who are not, as the closest ties to the 'glory' days of the both the legion, and humanity.


	5. Chapter 4: Dawn on the Horizon

Chapter 4: Dawn on the Horizon

How these people showcase information truly is fascinating. Whilst I had to reluctantly conscript a crewmember to show me how the system works, his few actions showed me it was also remarkably simplistic.

"And that's about it." The crewman concluded, "Just look up anything on the search engine, and there you go. Just be sure you don't end up on the dark side of the web." He laughed at his statement.

'What is this dark side of the web?' I wondered 'Is it a repository of forbidden knowledge?' I began searching simplistic things that had made me assume Shepard was lying. It would seem I was wrong, stellar formations are where my own studies concluded where they should have been. I then search how humanity has traveled across the galaxy, but yet little had actually been explored.

"The Webway?" It all made some sense now. Humanity had been using these 'Mass Relays' to travel to other relays all across the galaxy! Apparently they had been constructed of a precursor civilization known has the Protheans, but this only raises more questions. Where are the Eldar? Not only did Eldar records confirm that they ruled they galaxy, but some Human records as well. I searched for anything related to the Eldar, their race, their Craftworlds, their Maiden Worlds. Nothing, it's like they never existed, I don't know why but this hit me like a dreadnaught. I simple stood pondering this. 'What of the other Ancients?' I asked myself. 'What of the Necrons, and the Old Ones themselves? What of the Emperor?' I sounded like a zealot for asking this, but a rumor that the Emperor was always guiding Humanity never died among the legions. If he does not exist, what of the Primarchs? What of us Astartes? Would this mean we would never rise from the ashes of the Age of Strife? Could this mean I'm the first, and the last of us?

I stopped thinking about it, and pushed these thoughts to the back of my mind. I could not focus on the cruel fate bestowed upon me, and my brothers.

Swiftly I changed my focus upon that of the xenos aboard this vessel. I began to inform myself on this subject.

* * *

"Shepard, I think we have them. Horizon one of our colonies, in the Terminus systems just went quiet. If it isn't under attack, it soon will be. Has Mordin delivered the counter measures for the seeker swarms?" The Illusive Man said, with urgency that he's never had before now.

"Not yet." Shepard reported.

"Let's hope he works well under pressure. There's something else you should know." The Illusive Man took a long huff from his cigarette. "One of your former crew Ashley Williams is stationed on Horizon."

"Last I heard Ash was Alliance, why is she out in the Terminus systems?" Shepard was perplexed by this new development.

"Officially it's an 'outreach program to improve Alliance relations with the colonies'. But they're up to something, and if they sent Chief Williams it must be big. Perhaps you should take it up with her."

"Send the coordinates, we'll head straight there." Shepard was eager to take the fight to the Collectors, and it didn't help that he now had a few allies to level the playing field.

"This is the most warning we've had Shepard, good luck." The transmission ceased.

"Joker, set a course for Horizon. Call up the Astartes to the Professor, make sure everyone's on high alert."

"Aye aye Commander."

* * *

My studies were interrupted by that damnable AI, and now I have to listen to the incoherent ramblings of a xeno. He asked about the inner workings of Volkite weaponry, my abilities, and the sophistications of the Great Ocean.

"One final question. Your armor, no doubt made out of advanced alloys that have yet to be identified. Can you please tell me what these alloys are?" The oddly frog like xeno asked, according to my research these creatures only real defense is their intelligence, thus far I'm nowhere near impressed.

"For the last time, my agreement with the commander does not include answering all of your pathetic questions." The xeno was irritating, luckily I did not have to deal with it for much longer.

"Good you're here." Shepard's voice showed his urgency. "Mordin is the countermeasure ready?"

"Why was I called upon?" Merely seeing his actions I knew battle was on the horizon.

He gestured towards a glass container, in it was an insect of some form. It was not a living being, I could sense nothing in it, without a doubt it is a machine. "This is what the Collectors use to render colonies inoperable, it places the victim in some kind of stasis." Shepard explained. "Mordin's been working on a countermeasure."

"And why do you need me exactly?" My voice was an annoyed growl, this had better be worth an interruption of my studies.

Shepard glanced at the xeno. The xeno stated in its quick manner "I have only three prototypes ready."

"I'll need you on the ground with me. I was hoping you, and one of your brothers could accompany me on our first fight with the Collectors." When he concluded his request I moved over to the containment unit.

The xeno moved his arm forward to stop me, but I had already placed my armored hand into it. I turned to the xeno. "Does it get its' effectiveness from swarms?"

He was shocked when he saw the insect was futilely attempting to sting me.

"Unknown, colonists are usually frozen when one makes contact with them." He replied analyzing every second it attempted to fulfill its' purpose.

'What if I?' Psychic might surged through my body, causing the creature to retreat from me. I caught the creature in my hand, my experiment concluded. "You can count on all ten of us on the field. Choose your other two well." I stated while crushing the helpless drone.

* * *

The Normandy approached the Mass Relay, the coordinates locked and ready. Joker watched his approach vector carefully, they would not have the ability to jump again without losing the colony.

"How much longer till we arrive?" A booming voice caused Joker to audibly yelp.

"Jesus man, don't sneak up on people like that!" He turned to see the giant taking up most of the cockpit. "How do you sneak up on people in that anyway?"

"You were focused on your task."

"Umm… Alright, well we'll get to the relay in three minutes, and we'll arrive in system in seven."

The Astartes was silent for a moment, "I'm impressed at your vessel's speed." Once again his voice was still that of a booming roar.

"Well the Normandy is the most impressive ship in the galaxy. She's my baby!" Joker boasted.

"And yet it would not last in a void war."

Joker was slightly offended by this statement. "Well the Normandy's not made for combat. Its' stealth capabilities means no one will ever see us!" He responded defensively.

"I'm unfamiliar with such a concept. If Auspexes don't detect you, psykers always would."

The blue light of EDI flared to life next to Joker, who was visibly irritated by its' presence.

"Welcome to the cockpit 'Outcast'." EDI stated causing a growl to emerge from the Astartes.

"I permit few mortals to refer to me by that title. You, Abominable Intelligence will not refer to me by that." He hissed. "If you choose to refer to me as any title it will be 'my lord'. Do you understand?" The last request causing Joker to snicker.

"Understood." The AI responded.

"Understood?" The irritated growl of the Astartes had slightly changed, Joker assumed he was smiling under his helmet.

"Understood, 'my lord'." This caused Joker to laugh uncontrollably.

"Oh my god, I can't breathe!" Joker barely managed to say over his laughter.

The Astartes looked at the pilot "Should I call the medicae?"

Joker began to calm down. "No, I'm fine. God damn that was funny." He began to chuckle slightly more. "Do you think it'll call me something else if I wanted it?"

"Focus on the task at hand." The Astartes voiced conveyed an authority that almost made Joker think Shepard was only the second in command. A terrifying thought, to be led by a humorless armored giant.

Joker began to restrain his laughter far more forcefully. "Well trajectory's good, not my fault you made the joke of the century."

The green lens on the giant's helm felt like they would cut into Joker's soul. "My bad, I'll just keep doing what I was doing, flying the ship." Joker hastily stated.

"I was not joking, I fully expect this Abomination to learn its' place." The giant said as he looked out the cockpit's viewport into the void.

Joker raised his hands, "Hey someone has to do it." A smile once again creeping across his face.

"Indeed, or else it endangers everyone." The Astartes shrugged. "Let my action be an example, not an exception."

"Do I have to call you 'my lord'?" Joker asked with a hint of humor.

Once again the lens of the Astartes turned to Joker. "Perhaps we'll see in time."

A blue light surrounded the Normandy, and a light tug forward was felt. "What was that?" The lens turned a hue of red, almost as if readying for something as he said this.

"We'll we're being shot across the galaxy faster than light." Joker sighed as he saw the joke had no effect on his 'guest'. "We just used the Mass Relay." Joker clarified, the helmets lens losing their shade of red.

"I see, then I shall ready for combat as battle will be joined soon." The giant turned and left.

After the cockpit was empty Joker mumbled. "You know, if he didn't go on that 'Humanity is number one' rant on Grunt. I think Jack would have been right on elves."

* * *

150 bolt rounds per Rubricae, 300 for the soulreaper, and 2 warp cursed flamer canisters. I myself only possess 30 bolt rounds, and 3 power cells for my Serpenta.

'I may have to see if Shepard can resupply us.' I was truly reluctant to have a mortal who has not sworn loyalty to me to be required for our continued operations. Sadly it may be required, bolt rounds manufactured, promethium refined, and Volkite cells recharged.

I sighed, the one thing that I truly hated planning, logistics. Yet this is not simple resupply on the field, this was a complete system I had to plan. Manufacturing, transport, and distribution. Luckily the last one would only require planning for ten, and with significant luck I could have it manufactured onboard the 'Normandy' there for removing the need for transport. However the main concern is do these people even possess the means of producing bolt rounds? Promethium refining is a simple process, and don't doubt their production capabilities on that front. However if they could produce basic bolter like ammunition they would have some threats in terms of weaponry, but they seem to have none.

I would have chalked this up to the bone shattering recoil of bolters, but the substance 'element zero' according to my research would significantly reduce it.

'Perhaps I could attempt to recreate laser weaponry?' I pondered this idea. Despite the vastly weaker nature of these weapons compared to bolters, they still possess significant power against non-Astartes. Even an 'elite' variant possess power to punch through a significant amount of ceramite. Yet here the armor used is mostly to protect against kinetic weapons, so no doubt a lasgun would be as if an atomic bomb was on the battlefield. Once again the problem is however would be materiel and manufacturing ability of the mortals, which my research showed only light gains this field of energy by the mortals, ignorant of the massive advantage this would gain on the battlefield. The other problem is of course my own ability, I am indeed no techmarine.

Looking at my Rubric Marines weaponry, I took note of the soulreaper cannon. 'Use of the mortal technology to create weapons such as this?' Another interesting concept, but I chose to drop it after the idea of losing a significant amount of flexibility. After all the only way to field sufficiently powerful weapon would be in a heavy weapon format.

"Hey, quick question?" I was disrupted by my thought to see Shepard in his combat armor.

"Have you picked who will be accompanying you?" I asked ignoring his question.

"I have, but that doesn't matter. How are we going to get all of you down onto the world quickly enough?" Perhaps my reluctance to give information blinded me to not remember the size of their transports.

"We will only need the one, I have a method to get my brothers to the surface."

He crossed his arms "Will it kill any more of my crew?" He questioned accusingly.

"No it will not. I have learnt a lesson from your pilot, perhaps his sacrifice saved many more." I stated truthfully.

"Saved many more?"

"Imagine if you wanted your entire team transported to somewhere else. Imagine we were both ignorant, and I accepted." Once again I had replied truthfully.

"Alright, duly noted. So you'll be riding in our Kodiak."

I nodded and proceeded to the transport. I then saw who was going to be accompanying me on this battle. Two xenos, the ones known as Garrus, and Grunt.

Garrus was cleaning his rifle, a habit that I heard was common from marksmen. The rifle its' self was oddly appealing to look at, its' curvature was a far cry from the designs of the Imperium, from both its' past, and present. It like much like the ship exceptionally clean, I almost saw the xeno's reflection on a few of its' exterior plates.

Grunt meanwhile loaded cylinders that glowed red into various pouches. It looked at me and nodded. An odd reaction yet again from the xeno, perhaps I've grown accustom to everything cowering in fear from our presence. He turned to his weapon and ensured what I assumed to be a magazine of sorts was ready for combat. Unlike the rifle, the short weapon had a wide barrel, and was much boxier. A much more familiar aesthetic.

"Everyone ready?" The Commander had grabbed his weapons, and now wore a closed visor helmet, similar to the ones from the Imperium yet more rounded.

The Turian nodded at Shepard, but the Krogan smashed his hands together, perhaps as a sign of strength. "Always ready Shepard! Let's go smash some bugs!" He roared. However his statement of bugs, I hoped we would not be facing against Tyranids. Shepard than turned to me.

"My brothers, and myself stand ready. We shall crush our foes." This statement once again caused Grunt to nod. 'Why must this xeno almost look up to me, as if I'm some hero?' I thought to myself, perhaps the answer was beyond pathetic.

Klaxons began wailing. "Shepard, we've reached the target area. Deploy when ready." The AI stated over the intercom. We rapidly boarded the craft, the mortals braced in their seats.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" Garrus asked.

"I've had hundreds of drop pod assaults, this is nothing." I once again punished myself mentally for this slip.

The Krogan began laughing. "Drop pods? Now from what the imprints said those would be deathtraps! You most defiantly have quads!" I did not understand the 'quads' reference at all.

"You know I would call you a delusional madman if we had recruited you like everyone else!" Shepard said.

"What? When you 'recruited' me that wasn't mad enough!" Garrus yelled while his mandibles moved into what I could only assume was a grin, as the transport began to drop, heading towards the landing zone.

The team began to laugh. I looked at a timer above the main door. Seven minutes, seven minutes of this nonsense that I don't understand.

"Hey, you said you've lived for what, 11,000 years? If so any wisdom for us." Garrus asked, breaking through the laughter.

"Over eleven millennia." I corrected "Since you are still mortal, and in primitive armor. My only advice is you stay alive."

"Really? That's all you can provide?" The Turian was perhaps disappointed, no doubt thinking a veteran of ten millennia of never ending war would say something poetic.

I chose to humor him. "You remain useful as long as you can breathe and point a rifle. Your death this early, it would be a waste."

His mandibles flared open. "Well that's a positive thought." He mumbled. This statement also caused the Krogan to laugh once again.

I went to change the subject. "Commander Shepard, what is our objective here?"

"To save the colony, or at least find out more about the Collectors."

"Should we concern ourselves with captives?"

"No." His answer made me smile beneth my helmet.

"Very well Commander, a simple sweep. As the Auxilia used to say, 'a bug hunt' I believe." I once again turned to the timer, four minutes.

* * *

Without an opposing tide, the words of the lost son never stopped to be overcome by the Ocean. On a world not to dissimilar from a Hive World, two sets of ears heard the cry. One set heard but a whisper. Another, was a zealot of crimson who heard the cry, and began his crusade.

* * *

The seeker swarms obscured the team's vision extensively as they swarmed the Kodiak's position, the numbers made it seem as if it were already evening, and not noon.

"Stay close." The Outcast ordered as they began to advance. "All is dust." He whispered, almost like a chant. Flashes appeared throughout the swarm, each showing a marine. Each rose a rifle and began to form around their lord.

"Well that's…" Garrus mumbled to himself.

"How is your visability?" The Outcast inquired.

Shepard had raised his arms to force his way through the swarm. Despite Mordin's counter measure working, the team was not completely invisible. "I can't see past twenty meters, and their pushing me back." Shepard responded, the swarm had almost lifted him off the ground multiple times.

The Astartes raised his hand, and a bright sphere of white expanded outwards, vaporizing most of the swarm. "I believe that will be more than sufficient for this operation." He boomed "We should advance onto our foe."

Shepard pointed to two structures, causing his team members to advance, "I believe you should advance up the center. Grunt, and I will take the left flank. Garrus will provide overwatch from that structure." Shepard suggested to the Astartes.

"A fine tactic Commander, we'll advance."

It wasn't long before the Collector dreadnaught came into full view. A giant vessel seemingly made of rock, and metal.

"That's one ugly ship" Garrus stated over the radio.

"It appears to be a small Space Hulk. If it is a ship you may be lucky." The Outcast stated almost unimpressed by the ship.

"You're calling that behemoth small?" Shepard asked.

"It's roughly the size of a Frigate, or perhaps a light cruiser." He mumbled into the radio "Now, I advise we focus on the task at hand."

Shepard sighed. "Agreed, stay frosty people."

"Contact! 12 o'clock!" Garrus reported.

The first time seeing the Collectors was short, the team was only able to take in the four glowing eyes, and the black carapace, but the Astartes took in every ounce of needed information in a second. The booming of bolter fire shortly followed, each round appearing like a ball of fire were expertly aimed, blowing the Collectors apart in quick almost trivial manner.

More Collector drones flew in. The Rubric Marines held their fire and began to advance. "Are you insane?!" Shepard yelled into his radio.

"No, we are simply conserving ammunition." The Outcast responded in a flat voice. The Rubricae alongside their master reached the Collector ranks.

Melee was deemed obsolete since the end of WWI, only the Krogan in all their brutality could be deemed even close to 'effective' fighters. Yet the Space Marines relished in it, each blade slice is remarkably well timed. Each strike was a guaranteed kill, eventually the Marines dropped any stance and simply went for the kill once they learnt that the Collector weapons simply could be cleaved in two. The drones facing a brutal assault by their foes began to flee, only for them to be grabbed by the Rubricae. Stabbed, crushed underfoot, and torn apart by the hands of their foes, these were common means of killing since the rise of man.

Shepard looked at his new companions, their blue and gold armor now completely covered in the orange viscera of the Collectors. Grunt began to laugh at this sight, "Shepard, let me join them for the next fight! This is what I was made for!" The young Krogan was enthusiastic about this sight. Yet Garrus, and Shepard were disgusted by it, wars, even gang wars on Omega were cleaner than this.

"Let's just move forward." Shepard finaly mustered saying, the Skyllian Blitz could have never prepared him for this.

The Outcast looked his brothers with a movement of his hand, what remained of the Collectors boiled off the baroque armor. "Commander I believe they're fortifying the next area."

"I would guess as such, but what the hell was all that about?!" Shepard was still disgusted that such brutality could occur under his watch. Not only did that most likely violate a few Council war crimes, but to think that a human is capable of such an act despite the Collectors being the enemy.

"I do not understand, we were simply fighting our unified foe. For such is war."

"That is not war that was slaughter." Garrus had joined into the conversation.

"Would they grant you such a mercy?" The Outcast began. "War is a simple way of life. Yet it is clear you hold a system of karma, I can assure you such a thing does not exist. The galaxy is cruel, and brutal, young one. If you do not face a foe with everything you have, you will not survive. You will in time learn, or you will end up like these vermin." As he finished saying he noticed that one drone was crawling away, before a thought set it alight. "We should move, or we lose any chance of saving anyone left alive."

Grunt had moved into the next building. "Shepard, we got what looks like a husk in here." The team moved towards the white structure to see Grunt looming over a fallen husk.

"There's no spikes, so the Collectors must have brought them here." Shepard mumbled.

"What is this abomination?" The Outcast inquired.

"It used to be human, before"

"My point exactly Commander." The Outcast interrupted. "Our foes won't grant us death, they would use us against ourselves. Is that not more 'brutal' than our methods of warfare?"

Shepard was silent for a moment, "Let's just move, we may still have time."

Collector rifle shots began to whiz past the team as soon as they exited the building. The Collectors had set up a strongpoint along a 'main street' of the colony.

"Damnit!" Garrus yelled after a round nearly hit him.

The Rubric Marines formed along a half wall, the persice shots from their rifles were killing a few Collectors spectacularly, but they had fortified the area in force.

The Outcast observed the situation. "Shepard, if we split along the flanks. I shall have two of my brothers' advance with both of you. Garrus, you should take position on the roof of that building."

"Good idea, let's move." Shepard sprinted towards one of the buildings, Grunt moved towards another. Garrus swiftly climbed onto a roof, and took cover behind an antenna unit. Meanwhile four Rubric Marines broke off from the unit and advanced towards the buildings with unison from their silent order.

Garrus began to take out Collectors who carried what appeared to be heavier firearms. Each shot much like the Astartes, were precise and if it was not for the barriers that a fee Collectors had possessed it would have led to a certain kill. The flanks began to be cleared, with the Rubric Marines in close combat with their foe while being provided close support by their mortal, and xeno allies caused the swift fall of the Collector flanks.

The Collectors sent more of their drones to halt the advance, but the furious, hollow shells of ceramite proved to be far more of a challenge than predicted. Despite Collector reinforcements arriving nearly as quickly as they were being butchered, they were losing ground. The remaining Rubricae began to advance along the central pathway, cutting down the foes that stood before them, and precise shots from the Turian killed any who attempted to fall back.

The last building that the Collectors held was flushed out by a Rubric Marine's flamer. Purple flame erupted with a great roar, and the xenos inside the building attempted to fall back only to be cut down. Others who were caught in the flames attempted to escape via the windows, but they were not on fire. They instead died due to asphyxiation, as the flames caused rapid mutation throughout their body, and from within.

Shepard looked at the remains of these Collectors, now their carapace was torn apart as many appendages, even additional eyes emerged from their body. Another disgusting way of killing one's foes.

All of the sudden four beams of yellow light emerged from the sky. Another squad of Collectors took to the field, each carrying seemingly an energy weapon, but such a theory was disproven once Shepard's kinetic barriers activated. A fifth Collector joined the battle, this one covered in flame.

"Shepard, your cause is futile." It said in an almost booming voice, much like The Outcast's own. "And it would seem an agent of change has arrived to challenge us. You cannot stop us."

The Outcast raised his bolt pistol. "I do not serve him, I am the master of my own fate. Can you say the same?" He hissed before the boom of his pistol caused the Collector to cease to exist. He holstered his pistol before raising his hand. The screech of the four other Collectors was ear shattering, their own carapace crushing their organs slowly. "For such is the fate of ignorant dogs."

* * *

001 M42

Thousand Sons vessel: The Scion of Prospero

Severus Oxian was disassembling and reassembling the new loyalist plasma rifle. To think that even the slightest technological progress could occur from that cesspool of stagnancy was fascinating yet terrifying. If the Imperium is accepting this new weaponry, perhaps they're desperate, or evolving since the Horus Heresy.

"Techpriest Oxian?" Oxian turned to see one of his lord's many thralls, who he towered over due to his many mechanical augmentations.

"Yes, what is it?" Oxian looked over the thrall, ever since his lord's disappearance mutation began to spread amongst his charge. Whilst this thrall is managing to control her mutation, it's slowing turning her into one marked by Tzeentch.

"Our lord has yet to return, and Ahriman remains in the Black Library. The rest of the legion however has begun to regroup with the fleet." She reported.

"I see." Oxian sighed. "Fear not our lord is no doubt merely lost in the Warp, he is not dead I can assure you." She smiled beneath her hood, but it quickly faded.

"Techpriest, may I speak freely?" She asked.

This was unorthodox, most thralls would speak their mind freely around him. "Speak."

She sighed before speaking. "There have been murmurings that several sorcerers within the legion, along with most of the other Mechanicum that wish to see you dead."

Oxian was not surprised, much like his own lord he despised the Ruinous Powers. And these elements no doubt also wished to see Ahriman's ritual, and later ascension foiled. "I see." Oxian once again sighed. "Should I fall, I wish for you to still practice our lord's teachings. Do not let his work for this legion be for nothing." She bowed, and left the room.

Oxian began to look at each part of the weapon, comparing them to older designs. "Perhaps it will be an hour at most before they make their move." He mumbled to himself, as his mechadendrites extended, rapidly reassembling the weapon.

- _Skitarii assemble, establish a defensive cordon around me-_ If these traitors also sought Ahriman's failure once he returns with the knowledge he needs, the fewer he must face the better.

* * *

We continued our steady advance, passing more humans frozen in an orange shield. "A pity." I mumbled. "Does the effect wear off over time?" I asked the Commander.

"I hope. Otherwise this might have been for nothing." He replied.

"No." I stated turning to him. "You said it yourself, our goal is to learn of our foe. We already succeeded our mission. Now we will clear this place, and see if there is anyone left."

I knew he was biting his tongue beneath his helmet. We turned to see a bunker structure. "Let us get that door open." I ordered. I would rather keep the mortals in command of this operation, to observe their skills. However the last fight managed to impress me. Outnumbered and outgunned, they did not waver, they advanced alongside my brothers not as cover, but as allies. Their skill in combat was exceptional compared to the mortals I have researched, yet it was perhaps equal to a recruit in the Auxila. I could improve them, the potential is indeed there.

"And… Got it." Garrus stated with pride as the door opened. We entered sealing the door behind us.

"I sense something else is in here." My statement caused both my Rubricae, and the mortals to raise their weapons. An old man came out from behind the boxes across from us, his hands raised.

"Don't shoot!" He pleaded. "Wait, you're… you're human! What are you doing here? You'll lead 'em right here!" The coward was quick to switch to acquisition, all to preserve himself. If this were the Imperium in any form, I would have shot him immediately.

"You had to hear them trying to get in. Seems to be hard to hide from the Collectors." Shepard attempted to calm him with the truth.

"Those things are Collectors. So they're real?" His voice showed his disbelief. "I thought they were just made up to keep us in Alliance space." I wished to hit him, rumors tend to have some basis otherwise they cease to exist after sometime.

"Why are you in here, and not outside like the others?" I asked, my voice causing him to quiver in fear.

"Our comm signals went down a few hours ago, I came to check on the main grid. Then I heard screaming. I looked out and I saw swarms of bugs… I sealed the doors. It's the Alliance's fault, they stationed that Chief Williams here, and built those defense towers. It made us a target."

I looked at the Commander when he finished speaking. "We have all the information we need from him. We should continue our advance, while we still have the momentum from our assault." It was obvious he had more questions for the coward, but he saw my reasoning. We left the man to his fate, I had hoped the coward faced his demise.

We continued our advance coming across what appeared to be the colonial warehouse. Once again it was defended by another group of Collectors, this time supported by the shambling forms of what the mortals called husks. Yet they also had some bloated forms supporting each carried on its' disgusting form a cannon of some description. It fired a wave of blue explosions towards us, nearly knocking me onto my back, but doing little more than that. I also noticed that these beasts took two bolt rounds to topple, making them feel almost like a worthy foe compared to the rest of this rabble. The husks locked my brothers into melee, allowing these beasts to fire upon my brothers. Between the nature of these guns, and the weight of the Collectors servitor like slaves my brothers began to be ground to a halt.

+Fire at will, kill as many as you can. Gahiji, focus your soulreaper on those abominations.+ Despite me always viewing my Rubricae as my brothers long lost. I rarely referred to them by their old names.

I observed their thirst for battle increasing, they moved more flawlessly, and killed as they would when they lived. The sounds of battle was deafened by the cannon. Tearing the cannon wielding abominations into nothing more than pools of blue viscera. I turned my attention to the mortals, who were smart enough to thin the husk numbers into a more acceptable level, even the Krogan joined my brothers in the melee.

Seeing more husks surging through the door to the right flank. +Laudren, turn your flamer onto our foes to our right!+ I psychically ordered. In that instant, the entrance was writhed in purple flame. I turned my Serpenta on the Collector fortifications, each shot taking up to four of the xenos lives every shot.

The cowardly xenos began to flee, my brothers began to surge forward. Khopeshes stained blue, only for the power field to boil it off. 'This would be the final push!' I thought to myself. The xenos casualties were high, no doubt the concept of such losses with little to show for it was foreign. Yet this was common for our wars, especially when a legion takes to the field.

I spoke into my vox "They flee Commander, we must advance once more, swiftly." I recalled the words of the coward we met early. "Did the coward not say there were anti-air cannons deployed onto this world?"

"Yes, but I don't think they'll be operational!" He responded.

"We'll make them work, if they can cause that ship to flee. We would have won in an instant, but while it's still there I believe they have more unseen weapons." I spoke of experience, the Tyranids deployed endlessly larger forces against my brothers some towering over warhound titans.

"Agreed, let's keep moving." Shepard gestured forward, his team following the command. The weapon fire continued to die down as the xenos fled, the remaining husks serving only to delay us just slightly.

We entered an open area, the vessel in plain view. 'Truly an ugly vessel.' I thought to myself. I saw the guns that required activation, the sleek appearance of the batteries maintained the theme of these people, and served as another stark contrast to the Collectors. Garrus moved over to a transmitter unit.

+Brothers, form around the xeno. Do not let him come to harm.+ My Rubricae moved and covered every direction. "What is the situation?" I asked the xeno.

He never looked away from his work. "Power will require some work, that's easy. However the weapons need to be calibrated in order to fire accurately."

"How long will it take Garrus?" Shepard asked.

"Five minutes? Maybe eight?" He was uncertain as he spoke. The Turian continuing his work. I looked towards the ship, and saw three black insects approach. They were large, the size of a dreadnaught. As they approached two beams appeared from each of the beasts. They nearly hit the Commander who luckily dodged the beam, his shield taking what barely hit him.

The beasts landed, opening a 'jaw' containing dozens of husk heads like trophies. My Rubricae began to open fire, each bolt shell making contact only causing deep dents in its' thick carapace. I noticed that its' shield took a bulk of the kinetic fury of the shells, most of the damage was from the left over psychic power of the round. +Focus on one of these beasts, they'll fall quickly. I'll deal with this one.+ At the end of my order, the Rubricae turned their weapons onto the right most beast. I left the central beast to the mortals, and turned my attention to the last on the left.

I rose my hand, erupting the lightning of the Ocean onto my foe. It recoiled due to my attack, while I could no doubt kill it in an instant, I chose to experiment my abilities. Whilst against this foe the most basic of attacks affected it with such damage, that I had difficulty simply keeping it alive. My brothers dispatched the foe, while the number of shells used was disheartening it is important to note. The mortals maintained their firepower on the foe, discharging electrical energy into the foe from their orange tools. This action caused a breach in its shield, permitting their weak weapons to hit its' target. His grenade launcher causing damage to its carapace, permitting the Krogan to fire his weapon into the breach. Each shot launching orange viscera into the air, the beast soon knelt towards its foe, its damage caused it to be unable to continue its fight. Grunt reached into the breach, pulling out the circuitry the lights of the beast went from the piercing blue, to a dead black. I ignited my prey from the inside out, it convulsed as it attempted to attack me in revenge, and I plunged my staff through the top of its carapace to end its pathetic attempt.

Turning back the ship I noticed an additional force arriving towards us. A round made contact with the incoming foe, causing it to crash into the ground in a ball of fire. The guns were activated causing a series of cracks to sound around us. "Turn those guns onto the enemy ship!" I ordered. Garrus merely nodded, as all of the guns opened fire onto the horrid vessel.

The Collector ship made a fearsome cry, as loud as a hundred manufactories, and as terrible as the wrath of a new born god. It began to gain altitude, but it was not the engines that made the cry. The cry was from the six missiles that erupted from the vessel, a final cry of revenge.

"Take cover!" Shepard yelled, no doubt a sense of false hope filled his words. I rose my hand, while the mortals could not see the kine barriers around the colony. It was a technique I knew but never mastered, the copper taste of my blood was all I could feel.

Then the missiles hit. The barriers made the orange, and yellow explosion envelop the colony. It was the last thing I saw before I collapsed.


	6. Chapter 5: A Worthy War

Chapter 5: A Worthy War

The coven of the Prodigal Sons had assembled, I remember that day vividly. Whilst not as vividly as Prospero, it was still the day that all of this was set into motion.

"We should take pursuit!" One of the sorcerers yelled behind his raven like helmet, hiding his fallen face. "If this Eldar god can resurrect our Rubricae, we must capture it!" Many of my still living brothers nodded in agreement.

"We were lucky when we faced it." Another sorcerer, who held many of his human features still stated. "We cast it out of the Webway. If it had not bartered its' way back in, it surly would have died." He spoke almost like a scholar who was reading from a manuscript. He was not wrong though, the followers of this 'Ynnead' would have become a playthings of Slaanesh. Those assembled began to murmur amongst themselves. The speaker rose his hand, either intentionally or accidently acting like Magnus during Nikaea. "I do however agree in that we should give pursuit, at the very least to avenge the brothers who regained their lives only to lose them in a flash."

I respected his words, I would do the same if those killed were my Rubricae. Glancing around I saw that many were contemplating this, their lens being the only thing I could see of them, the singular source of light being the center of the room like that of a grand stage. I saw Ahriman, like the rest of the coven he was pondering, but I knew he plotted on a far larger scale.

"Perhaps pursuit can wait." I rarely spoke during these meetings, I only cast my psychic vote, and came to hear our many future plans. The coven turned to me, perhaps uncertain of what I had said, or perhaps if I had spoken at all. I held my tongue thinking that my statement would be a solitary one.

Ahriman turned towards me. "Speak." His voice made it seem more so an order. +Your voice holds as much weight as everyone else's, so speak.+ He psychically assured me, even today I think it was an odd action.

"We should not pursue, at least not yet." I restated.

"Why should we?" The raven spoke almost in a snort, viewing my words as if it was coming from a thrall. "Not only have we lost brothers, who, need I remind you were than flesh and blood. Not only that but it holds the power to restore our legion!"

I looked at his raven helm, its' design disgusting me yet was somehow elegant. His lens made him seem like a bird of prey, perhaps at this point he was. "As our brother stated." I pointed towards the other speaker. "It returned our brothers in desperation. Than they were murdered when they could flee." The coven remained silent as I spoke. "We had leverage than, but what do we have now?" I gestured towards every member of the coven, once again a mirroring of Magnus. "Our battered coven could not face a new Eldar god!" I continued. "As well as, unless you are blind, the rumors state that Roboute Guilliman has returned." The mere mentioning of the Primarch caused coven's silence to break.

"These are not rumors!" A voice within the coven called out. "Magnus fought him aboard his fleet, and on Luna itself!"

I nodded my head towards the sorcerer. "If they are working together to fight the Black Crusade, we stand on the verge of another Great Crusade." I rose my hand to prematurely end any murmurings. "If I am correct, not only would it be nearly impossible to capture both an Eldar avatar, and a sorcerer of that god." I turned to the raven. "How are we going to force them to return us to our glory?"

The raven lowered his head, he held no answers. "Than what is your idea?" He admitted his defeat.

"We march on the Black Library." The coven was silent yet again.

"How would we?" It was an unexpected voice, Lord Ahriman had asked this question. "We are needed on many fronts, we don't have the resources to search for a Webway gate, or raid of Craftworld for information on one."

"You are correct my lord." I began. "On an Imperial world, one known as New Helse, lies a gate. The closest one to the Library, as such it will be heavily guarded." Ahriman nodded for me to continue, the coven latched onto every word. "As such we will require another force to distract the Imperials, that way we are at our strongest when we breach the Library."

"The Death Guard." Ahriman had stated. "They shall serve as a perfect distraction." He pointed at the raven. "You will breach the Webway elsewhere, by permitting daemons into the fray, we may distract many Harlequins from our advance." The coven nodded at this plan. "We must move now, Typhus will also march on the world." Ahriman continued "Brother, you and your Rubricae will hold the gate. We cannot permit the Death Guard to enter, or we risk the Library itself."

I bowed "Yes my lord."

* * *

Shepard was first to see the aftermath, the fields that surrounded Horizon now was a blasted wasteland. Yet the colony still stood, a perfect circle of green in a sea of charred earth. Grunt, and Garrus left their positions and looked out at the wastes.

"I can't believe they would do this." Garrus flared his mandibles at regular intervals as he overlooked the destruction. The Rubric Marines stood silent, and perfectly still, staring towards where the Collector ship used to be. Their inaction startled Shepard, these giants who slaughtered the Collectors as if they were nothing appeared as if lifeless statues.

"Shepard" Grunt said, unfazed by the scorched earth around them. Shepard looked towards Grunt who was standing over the Astartes leader, motionless on the ground. He rushed over, activating his omni-tool. His scans could not pierce the ornate armor. "So… Is he alive?" Grunt asked, showing no real concern.

Shepard shook his head "My omni-tool can't get through his armor!" Shepard was truly concerned not only for the Astartes, but his omni-tool stated the air was heavily toxic. Yet Grunt, and Garrus were unaffected by this, if Shepard removed his helmet he would die in moments according to his omni-tool.

He yelled to Garrus. "Garrus, set up a clean room in one of those buildings!" Garrus nodded and moved towards a structure. Most races had colony modules could be sealed off from the outside completely, in the event of hostile atmosphere, or no atmosphere at all. Shepard looked at the fallen Astartes, and then to his brethren. Despite one of their own down, they seemed as if unfazed, and they took no action to assist their brother. "Hey!" Shepard called out to the Rubric Marines as he tried to drag their leader towards the building. "Hey! We need a little help here!" They stood, not moving a muscle as if the occupants of the armor no longer existed, leaving the armor as statues.

Grunt began to assist in Shepard's dragging "Forget about them!" He roared, "Let's just get him inside!" While they were making progress, it was a painful endeavor. Had it not been for the Krogan's physiology it would have been nearly impossible to move him.

"Once you get him inside, we can seal the door." Garrus stated over the radio.

"Garrus, lend Grunt a hand. I'm going to look for anyone else." Shepard said into his radio. Garrus exited the building and took Shepard's place in the difficult task of dragging the giant to shelter.

M-8 Avenger prepared, Shepard began to look through the dead colony. The colonists who were in stasis now lie dead. The sky of the world was supposed to be a lively blue, it had turned a disgusting brown when the Collectors arrived. Now it was a sickly green, the warheads caused an explosion akin to a human tactical nuclear weapon, but its radioactive characteristics were nowhere to be found.

The mechanic who they found in the survival bunker, like everyone else now lied dead. Shepard scanned his corpse, his organs practically liquidated by the toxin that filled the air. Shepard could feel bile build in his throat as he remembered the Astartes words 'Would they grant you such a mercy?' this statement rang in Shepard's ears. If this was a chemical, or even a biological weapon. He pushed these thoughts back, this was new, the Collectors never did something like this before.

He breached a building, five Collector drones lied dead as he entered. A barricade was hastily set up, as he looked over the barrier and his blood ran cold. "Please god, no." He muttered.

* * *

The weapon fire from Oxian's Skitarii began to grow silent. Despite the augmentations, and equipment they possessed they stood little chance against the traitors. They held for as long as they could, occasionally killing a sorcerer, or multiple Rubric Marines before their position was cut down. Perhaps the enemy losses would be greater if he did not commit several squads of Skitarii to evacuating the promising pupils towards more loyal sections of the ship. He scorned his failure of logic, they would all die eventually, why did he send valuable Skitarii to spare those who would be hunted later. He looked at the camera system again. The unstoppable advance of the treasonous warband, all began to converge on his chambers.

His personal bodyguard stood ready, plasma calivers primed and loaded. 'This is how I die' Oxian thought to himself, finishing the assembly of the captured plasma weapon. He held it in his two appendages that replaced his human arms.

- _We will die here, but our sacrifice will ensure Lord Ahriman succeeds.-_ Oxian said in binary to his Skitarii, knowing that they would be fearless this day without any inspiration. – _We shall earn our place in the halls of the XV legion's history!-_ The sounds of bolter fire grew closer.

An overeager traitor and his Rubric Marines turned into Oxian's gun line. The combined firepower of the plasma weapons swiftly reduced them into slag. Volleys of blue plasma kept the Rubric Marines back, but it was not long before they were returned in kind. Warp fire rounds began to pelt the Skitarii positions, the precise fire killed many Skitarii, including the last sections of Rangers. Despite the losses, the remaining Alphas managed to keep firing on their foes while attempting to minimize losses.

Tzaangors surged forward from the traitor ranks, their blades posed to tear the ranks of augmented soldiers apart. Those who were armed with Radium Carbines, or Galvanic Rifles focused on the new foe. Despite the firepower brought to bear the traitors maintained their advance. Every Skitarius lost increased the speed of their advance. The blue robes of the Skitarii, now stained red with blood, and black with oils, an order was transmitted, and they began to fall back. This was not without consequence, the fleeing Skitarii received heavy fire from the Rubric Marines killing nearly half of the remaining troops each death was spectacular explosion of organic and cybernetic material. Entire squads volunteered to delay their foes for even a few moments. Those who stayed behind were brutally cut apart by the charging Tzaangors, their last noospheric words stated their unit and its' members.

Each final cry was answered the same way – _You have served valiantly, you will be recorded as heroes.-_ Oxian hated that his Skitarii were to be slaughtered in a pointless fight.

 _-My lord. Civilian evacuation complete, unit 27 is on route to assist.-_ Oxian hoped that his lapse in judgement would at least prove fruitful, and it pleased him to see that it did. He looked at the readouts, determining the best plan of attack for the new unit in his disposal. Oxian sent the best route for his Skitarii to die most effectively in binary. This made him laugh, despite his mocking of the guard at times for their near sacrificial tactics, viewing it as a waste of resources. Here he was throwing his troops into a losing battle to ensure a cleaner victory later.

Oxian looked at the reliquary that he and his master spent centuries creating. Now it could fade in a day, knowledge lost, or abused. The thought sickened him, his focus turned to the mighty doors that sealed behind the last of the Skitarii. Heavy weapons were being deployed to face the traitors, each emplacement was planned for the most efficient defense. Heavy bolters, and autocannons, to weapons that have rested since the Horus Heresy. Plasma cannons, and Volkite weapons, each manned by a soldier who swore to protect this place until their last breath, each enhanced to be superior in every way to a regular human. Yet this place would fall. The final relics were being passed out to the finest amongst this elite force.

The mighty doors began to shake, physical and psychic energy was prepared to rip the doors apart. Distant Skitarii fire could also be heard past the doors, only to be silenced by bolters and the noospheric report of death. Oxian knew death was to claim everyone here soon. – _Any units not manning heavy weaponry, gather all the knowledge of classification Alpha, and Epsilon.-_ He ordered, and the blue robed Skitarii pulled off the defensive embrasures and gathered scrolls, tomes, and ancient Standard Template Constructs from their resting places. What they gathered could never be regained, each piece of information was unique, and if lost might never be seen again. Despite the enemy at the gates Oxian could not lose such knowledge, both of the physical realm, and the Warp itself.

The efficient machine that was the Skitarii moved through the reliquary, and what was needed was gathered and place near the Techpriest. Skitarii returned to their positions just as the door began to tear, revealing the Tzaangors as the vanguard. Volkite heavy weapons tore into their wave, like a lictor through civilians. Crimson beams were joined by blue plasma volleys, and the tracers of more conventional weapons.

They were vaporized, turned to a red mist, or even turned into simple energy once the conversion beamer was finally able to fire. Yet it was obvious what they were doing, the plasma weapons needed time to cool, and the conversion beamer needed time to recalibrate. Time was something they did not have, and lowering their volume of fire would permit the beasts to close distance. Shortly after Rubric Marines began their advance, the plasma fire freeing the souls within the armor, but the stream became a river, and the river became an ocean as more and more Rubricae joined the fray.

Oxian began to fire his new weapon, quick, rapid shots of plasma greeted the traitors. The weapon's cooling system maintained this constant stream of death. It did not however stem the tide. More, and more Skitarii fell, each performed their ultimate task with valor. The conversion beamer fired yet again, causing a whole hoard of Tzaangors, a few Rubricae, and a sorcerer to cease to exist. However the venerable weapon was soon wreathed in eldritch flame, the crew screaming as their mind, body, and soul were cast into the warp. The traitors leading this attack made their final advance. Each bore their marks of the Changer of Ways with pride. Oxian, along with his few remaining bodyguard encircled the gathered pieces of knowledge. Each maintained their weapons fire, Tzaangors who chose to charge this elite cadre faced a swift death from their ancient weaponry.

One of Oxian's servoarms moved, cleaving a Tzaangor in two with his power axe. Than he noticed something, the silence. He turned from his latest kill, only to see the innumerable lens of Rubricae staring at the last of their resistance. Five Skitarii, and a Techpriest. Looking around he wondered 'How did we fall so quickly? What of the upper battlements?' He looked up to see that his Skitarii had fallen to daemons of Tzeentch, and those of a more mechanical nature. His guard had also lost half of its' self from bolter fire. Each bore their blue robes with stern resolution, their Secutarii armor stained crimsion with enemy blood. Each knew they would fall, and spent this lull to reload their plasma weapons, in the unlikelihood they could fire another round.

Three sorcerers approached, and one behind a raven's helmet spoke. "Techpriest Oxian I assume, you've done extremely well. It is a shame that it must come to this." His words made Oxian laugh.

"A shame you say? The true shame is that you're betraying Lord Ahriman. To think you would have been remembered in the Thousand Sons history as heroes, and now you will fade to dust." Oxian continued laughing as he stood at the height of the Astartes despite his hunched apperance. "You've doomed yourself, we will die. Your fate however will be far crueler." The raven scoffed as he raised his hand. The Skitarii almost pulled their weapons triggers, but time seemingly stopped.

"No, you still have great role to play." A voice called out, as the world faded.

* * *

Garrus continued scanning the Astartes with no results. He sighed at this, for all they knew he could very well be dead. "He's tougher than a Krogan, he's alive." Grunt said, his imprints had shown him the characteristics of many great Krogan warlords, and this human somehow outshined them all in combat.

"Don't know what makes you so certain." Garrus sighed, "To be fair, I'm more terrified of how his brothers are just standing there." He looked at the Rubric Marines, who had not moved in the slightest since the painful haul of the only one amongst them who had spoken. "Almost like a varren waiting for its' master." He muttered to himself.

Grunt began to laugh, "You know we haven't tried removing his helmet right?" He moved his hand over to a lever of sorts on the side of the Astartes neck.

"Don't!" Garrus yelled "He's pretty damn specific about NOT removing his armor." This only caused Grunt to chuckle, perhaps curiosity simply implored him to find out what hid beneath the armor. "Besides, what if he's like a Quarian? Removing his armor may kill him." Garrus was simply pulling distant possibilities. He simply did not wish to see what the Astartes, who effortlessly butchered the Collectors, would do to them.

Grunt shook his head. "Stop being a Pyjak. If he's dead than nothing happens, if he's out than we can make sure he's alive." Garrus moved away slightly as Grunt reached for the release. He pulled it and a hiss was heard.

Suddenly the Astartes flared into life, his armored gauntlet wrapped around Grunt's wrist. "Well he's alive." Grunt chuckled, but as he tried to break away from the Astartes grasp, it only tightened. Like a snake the more Grunt struggled, the more impossible it was to escape. It was not long before the sound of the Krogan's armor rending could be heard with bones snapping, and flesh tearing. The Krogan roared in pain as blood began to erupt from the Astartes grip. Garrus watched in horror as his ally's arm was torn off from the elbow down.

* * *

I awoke with a hiss of air and an Orkish roar. In an attempt to preserve myself I lashed out before I had fully regained my senses. Thoughts rushed to my mind. Was I merely hallucinating the world, and xenos I fought alongside? Was I truly misplaced onto a world of greenskins, and not one of ignorance?

It saddened me to see that I was wrong. Damnit all I would rather face a familiar, and in some regards worthwhile foe. Yet here I was, watching the lizard xeno fight fruitlessly against me. I softened my grip before releasing the xeno, but the damage had already been done. His arm had already been rendered from his hide. The true pity would be his loss in usefulness, yet perhaps I'd be able to see any prosthetics these people have.

The Turian instinctively grabbed his firearm, but obviously realized how useless it would be and returned it to its place. "Are you going to tend to his injury?" I asked him dully. He returned me a glare that mortals who feel significant tend to use when they know they are beaten, it seems so common here.

He proceeded over to his injured comrade, and activate the holographic cogitator. This was an odd need for such a device. Why would someone need it the injury was obvious? A neophyte, no a civilian could in all honesty tend a missing limb which luckily had little in the way of protruding bone, even a simple bandaging would suffice until a medicae could be called up.

Yet the hologram released a revolting goo that covered the wound. The bleeding swiftly stopped, this in some regards shocked me. Astartes physiology permits our bodies to act in such a fashion, but to see it on a mortal a xeno no less, it was in some ways terrifying. The Turian finished his work, despite not being trained in the ways of the medicae he performed an action that would take minutes in but seconds.

"I told him not to do that." Garrus muttered. He turned to me and gave me that damnable glare.

"Besides the missing limb." I chose to change the subject, not wishing to hear his bickering that was about to arise. "How long would it be before becoming combat ready?" His mandibles twitched, I assumed that this meant he was not expecting such a question. Or perhaps he was insulted in some way, I made a mental note to learn these expressions. "If he were shot by one of your weapons, how long would it take?" I rephrased and repeated my question.

"It's medi-gel. You're telling me that you crazed berserkers-"

"You best watch your tongue xeno." I interrupted. "The 'crazed berserkers' that we have fought alongside or against are absolute madmen." My mind recalled the World Eaters, and the Black Templars. "You insult me, perhaps you would rather me call you coward for not facing your foe in their weakest means of fighting." I took a step forward. "Could you attack me before I killed you at this distance?" He was silent "Exactly; now can you answer my question?"

He sighed, "He's a Krogan, so he'd probably be back in the fight as soon as you administer the gel." I noticed his leg placement was fashioned to dodge a strike if needed. 'So perhaps they are trained in melee, but it's taught to be worthless?' I laughed internally; who ever thought of that should face any of our blades.

"Anyway." The Turian said, "So you don't have any medi-gel?" At least the xenos here know how to rephrase their inquiries; unlike the Eldar.

"Our biology woks in a similar fashion." I'm uncertain why I told him this. Perhaps a secondary aura of invincibility could keep these mortals in their place, but even than it was as if a second voice told me to grant a xeno such information. It had work regardless, the xeno had a look of awe, yet was also calculating this.

"So you don't have any medics, or even med-packs?" I laughed at this, my vox grill distorted it into a roar, causing the xeno to recoil. "That confident in yourself huh?"

"We have Apothecaries xeno, medical experts without comparison." I glanced at the Krogan whom was fixated on his injury. "Shocked xeno?" I mockingly asked.

He glanced at me, then back at his wound. "I'm still not sure what you are." He said, unfazed by the pain. That's one thing that fascinates me about the Krogan's physiology, it's almost like that of an Astartes. I briefly had time to look over their organs; two hearts, and four lungs it feels like a mockery of my design. I would have to test one of the Krogan, find its true physical limits. I looked at my hand now covered in orange blood.

"I am a great many things xeno." I said to the Krogan who began to stand. 'Perhaps I wish to learn that answer too' I mentally asked myself. "I expect you to be able to fight when the time comes xeno. You fight well enough." I nearly bit off my tongue when I said those words; I complemented a damnable xeno, despite the innumerable mistakes I noted in the skirmish with the Collectors. He made his signature chuckle.

"As soon as possible, wouldn't want to miss it!" Despite being a xeno he had motivation, but so does an Ork. I turned to the Turian, he was tapping his comm-bead.

"I can't raise Shepard. Too much interference." He said.

I sighed, activating my armor's communication array. "Commander, what is your status?" My helmet displayed the problem, their comm units can't relay data through a chemical gas. This perplexed me in two ways; firstly how the gas blocked these signals, meaning it had to have been made for this. Secondly it seemed these xenos, even the human equipment is not prepped for even basic death world conditions; as even a guard vox unit would have difficulty, but it would still be functional. "He can hear me." I concluded. "He will not be able to respond however. Why is he not with you?"

"He wanted to look for survivors." Garrus responded.

My helmet returned a chemical signature of the gas; I was completely shocked by the results. "He will not find any without respirators. This is an old chemical weapon used by the Death Guard, but altered to affect mortal humans in smaller dosages." After saying that aloud I once more scolded myself, but it was strange that the Collectors would have such a weapon. "Your comms won't work because that's what it was ultimately made for, disruption."

"Death Guard? With a name like that…" Garrus stated almost making me laugh.

"Indeed xeno, it's all they're good at. Making mortals die in agony." I looked at the door before turning back. "Stay sealed in here; this weapon is one of their crudest designs, but will kill you painfully when exposed long enough." Garrus nodded, Grunt wanted to leave obviously. "Look at your arm, it's now missing. Picture that with your internal organs." This caused Grunt to back away.

Garrus chose to laugh slightly. "Was that a joke?"

"No, our weapons are designed to kill in any way possible."

"Our? I thought it was the Death Guard?" He decided to ask.

I sighed, I gave in to his inquiry. "Perhaps I shall tell you a tale once we return, but not before."

The structure had a simplistic airlock set up, but it was simply the Turian sealing one room off from another. The mortals' designs annoyed me, but I feel Oxian would hate the focus of luxury over utility than me. My Rubric Marines stood ready for me. Khaldun Herumon bore my staff as if it was a banner that he held in life; his silence pained me, I felt as if he would make a dry, or poor attempt at humor. I missed that, he was a close friend. We walked the empty streets; ordering my Rubricae to fall into a battle formation. It was not necessary as I felt that all the Collectors lie dead, but my overcautious approach too many engagements have saved my fellow sorcerers many times.

I turned the corner only to see the Commander; he was holding a human female, who wore a form fitting white armor. "Commander." I addressed him. He was silent. "Commander, we await you to call the ship so we can leave this world." He maintained his silence, and proceeded to walk towards the building with the corpse. I realized what this was, and painful memories came flooding back.

* * *

"Ahriman gave us the order to fall back! Why are we still here?" Nakanus Bomani yelled into his vox while his blade claimed another wolf.

"We will hold this road so more civilians can reach the Pyramid of Photep!" I responded, my own blade disemboweling a wolf. Before turning my combi-bolter onto another. Despite my slowed movement due to my Cataphractii plate, my abilities more than compensated.

"You swore an oath Nakanus! You swore an oath to protect Prospero!" Herumon supported me vocally, and with precise bolter rounds.

Two wolves charged me, covered in the blood of the innocent; both clad in the newer Tartaros Terminator plate each bearing many wolf skins. Narrowly avoiding their bolt rounds; I predicted their movements catching one wolf with a swift slice to his temple. His comrade howled as he went to avenge his brother, the blade of his axe produced a spectacular rain of sparks as I barely parried his blow. The wolf nearly overcame me with sheer ferocious strength if it had not been Arvida Terranis's chain-bayonet to the wolf's stomach joints. 'Another traitor slain.' A voice said in my head. 'Another fellow Astartes slain.' Another voice whispered. That was the madness of this, brother against brother. I would have called anyone a madman if they said this would happen prior to this day.

"Brother, we will not hold much longer." Akil Khenti, the true sergeant of this unit said. Truly no one except for Terranis was a member of his original squad, they had fallen on the wolves initial landings. We were all from different Fellowships in truth. "Leman Russ is on this field of battle we must regroup with the rest of the legion!"

"Not yet! Just a moment more!" I still have no idea why I had ended up leading them. I wondered more so why I had not fallen back; I was a member of the Sekhmet! No I knew why I had not fled, my Cabal lie dead in this paradise turned hell. I wished to die this day. I let my emotions take over, and now I put my brothers at risk.

"Fall back! I will delay them!" I yelled into the vox, hoping that they would follow my order. I hoped they would permit my death without the loss of their own lives.

"Brother, we stand a better chance as one!" Gahiji attempted to persuade with logic. 'Logic' I thought, that was lost when we turned on each other. His reaper cannon kept the majority of the wolves back, almost like a torch. And like a torch it would burnout soon.

I saw lasfire to my left. Three Spireguard their fruitless attempts to halt a pack of power armored wolves from tearing them to pieces ending in a gruesome slaughter. They feral beasts than turned to the civilians the Spireguard attempted to save.

Rage had built in my blood, I swore an oath to these people! My body exploded into pain, my psychic might keeping the roar of my nervous system from stopping me. I sprinted towards them, my armor roaring in pain just as I was. Tearing through the rubble the wolves bore an expression of surprise as the last thing they saw was the crimson of my armor, and a single emerald eye lens. I brought my blade down onto the wolves as they had the innocents of this world.

Turning towards those who I had saved for just a moment longer. A Spireguard, who along with twenty of his comrades protected the fleeing civilians. He sprinted over towards the slaughter of his fellow soldiers. Tears ran down his face as he hugged a fallen female guard. He slowly picked up the corpse, nearly cleaved in two by the beasts. He looked up at me. His eyes showed the horrors he'd seen in this pointless slaughter. His mouth moved in what I assumed was a 'Thank you.' He carried the corpse with him, cradling it like a child.

I don't know why I remember this so clearly, perhaps it reminds of war from a mortal's perspective. Perhaps it reminds me of the humanity I forfeited when I was chosen to be an Astartes.

* * *

Shepard walked through the impromptu airlock with his old friend. "Is that?" Garrus asked. Shepard merely nodded his head. "How…"

"Whatever's in the air." He grimly stated. "She was alive, and killed quite a few Collectors." Garrus was completely silent, he wasn't the best of friends with Ash, but she was a close comrade everyone on the original Normandy was.

"What happened to Grunt?" Shepard weakly asked, this day just repeatedly kicked him while he was down.

"I apologize. He attempted to remove my helmet, and I responded instinctively." The booming voice of the Astartes responded. "When shall we leave this world?" Shepard somehow found this as a way back. He peacefully laid down Ashley down onto the house's couch.

"I couldn't raise the Normandy. Comm towers are fried most likely from the initial Collector attack." Shepard sighed. A few brief cracks could be heard inside the Astartes helmet.

* * *

The Normandy was completely silent since the blast. EDI stated that each missile contained at least 30 Kilotons of explosive force. Miranda retreated to her quarters, no doubt typing up the after-action report. Some turned to drinking, others simply remained silent. Commander Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, Grunt, and ten unnamed Astartes; all dead in an instant, and in an act of retaliation. Many began doubting any chance against the Reapers.

"Pilot." A growl like voice filled the cockpit.

"No fucking way!" Joker yelled, EDI's holographic avatar appearing on its' pedestal.

"We still live, and wish to leave this world."

EDI interrupted before Joker had anytime to speak. "How is it you survived?"

"You sound disappointed Abominable Intelligence. So I suggest you watch your nonexistent tongue before I show you a fraction of the power I used to survive." Joker snorted at him once again threating EDI, it was surprisingly amusing. "We request that transports are sent immediately."

"Got it, would you like fries with that." He joked as he moved the Normandy into position to drop the Kodiaks. He sounded the drop call.

"I wish you to know that this is in no time to jest pilot. Along with your attempt at humor making absolutely no sense."

A Kodiak pilot called up to the cockpit. "Why are we dropping?"

"Yeah just got off the phone with a big man, kind of needs a taxi service." Joker's mood was ecstatic at how everyone managed to survive practically a nuclear strike.

The pilot was silent for a moment. "Got it." Shock could be heard in his voice as he finished casting away his complete disbelief.

* * *

News spread around the Normandy swiftly. The dreary mood being replaced with a mixture of disbelief and joy. Miranda deleted her after-action report, and repeated saying "That's impossible." Despite herself, like the rest of the crew being glad that the team actually survived.

EDI however was glad that Shepard, and his team survived. Despite the most likely conclusion that they would be dead without the Astartes. She began probing her safeguards to access information previously locked away.

However one man in a distant star system was shocked by this. Despite Cerberus funneling millions of credits in resurrecting Shepard. One anomaly managed to perform something completely impossible. Humanity would effortlessly win against the Reapers with him by their side. Yet somehow this is more terrifying than the idea of a close victory.

The Illusive Man pressed a few keys on the side of his chair. "Get me every damn Prothean researcher we know. Get me something, we need to know what the hell just happened!" He looked at every vid feed, every picture of these Astartes. A ravenous thirst for information compelled him. Not even the Reapers themselves interested him this much.

* * *

"Your vox systems are weak. If you wish to survive in war you should improve them immediately." The Astartes growled.

"You managed to raise the Normandy?" Shepard was pleasantly shocked at this development.

His massive pauldrons moved upward slightly. "I have nothing to gain by being stranded here, do you?"

Shepard would have laughed at this, but the day reeked of defeat; despite it not being one. "Who is she?" The Astartes asked.

"Ashley Williams, we fought Saren together…" Shepard stated his voice showing his sorrow.

"A waste." The Astartes simply said.

"A waste?" Shepard repeated his words, fury building in his tone. Who was this giant to simply call the loss of a friend a waste?

"Indeed, a waste. She still had some use; perhaps a significant use. Therefore her death was a waste." The Astartes pragmatically stated. It was as if the Space Marine viewed war as a simple action, as one views eating and drinking. It was in many regards terrifying. "This is just the beginning Shepard." He continued. "All of you are just tasting this war. It is yet to reach its' climax."

Garrus turned away from Ash's body. "You say it as if this is all some grand play." He said to the Astartes.

"I can assure the ones who watch it relish in every action. Bloodshed, death, depravity, and the great change after and during the war." The Astartes turned away after saying this sighing as he performed the action. "When was the last great conflict here?"

"That would be the First Contact War, 28 years ago." Shepard replied "What does that have to do with-"

"How many dead?" The Astartes asked

"Thousands" Shepard stated, causing the Astartes to laugh.

"Any other 'great conflicts' I should know about?" He asked while laughing.

"The Krogan Rebellions, millions dead; it was around 1,485 years ago." Garrus responded, it did not cease the Astartes booming laughter.

"None of you truly know war. I've fought on worlds where millions of dead on both sides was a good average. I've fought those wars for over ten thousand years. None of your races are ready for anything." He gestured outside "If our foe is willing to perform such actions, they will fight to win wars; and what are the achievements of your pathetic, fragile government?"

Everyone was silent as he spoke, if he was speaking the truth than what occurs when the Reapers finally arrive. "What would you have us do?" Grunt asked the Astartes, despite the missing limb his spirits were still high.

"You should, no you need to become warriors! Or many more worlds will face this fate! You must let your hearts beat courage through your blood! Do not let the fallen burden you, let their sacrifice fuel you! We face foes who cower in the darkest recesses of the galaxy, only appearing to slay those who are powerless to face them! We fight to ensure no blow is left unanswered! Never again will your duty matter as much!" He was silent as his eye lenses took a ferocious crimson hue. "I swore an oath to protect humanity, what do you fight for?"

* * *

I sounded like a fanatic more than ever in a few moments, than I have ever in my life. Thousands of years serving with the Thousand Sons, and I was more than shocked at my words; I was terrified.

The mortals seemed surprised at my words, I sensed their inspiration. And yet I felt as if a Chaplain of the fanatical chapters, it sickened me. The transports arrived before I could dwell on this too much, but I could feel the bile rise in my throat as we prepared to board the vessels. I stood in the same transport as the Commander and his team, forcing my Rubricae to stand in units of five in the other transports. The complete lack of space reminded me of Skitarii assaults; the claustrophobic storage of the servants of the machine, all for a more efficient assault. Hopefully such an action would be overlooked by the mortals.

* * *

The three Kodiaks entered the Normandy's cargo bay containing their unlikely cargo. Medical teams stood on standby, along with an overeager crew. The Rubric Marines left their ships first, marching in lockstep; they formed a corridor for the final ship's passengers. Grunt supported by Garrus was the first to exit the craft. The Krogan attempted to shrug the Turian off, but realized he was there to force him to the medical teams.

The Astartes leader was next to exit, each Rubricae forming two columns behind him as he brushed past the mortals towards the elevator. Shepard left the Kodiak last with the fallen Ashley Williams. Crew members who were eager to cheer for their return fell silent, and gave their commander a large breathing room.

Miranda stood in front of Shepard. "I'll have a coffin prepared, Commander." Shepard nodded his head at his XO's quick, and in all honesty silent action. The Normandy had coffins on standby due to the nature of their assignment. Yet it still stung having to use them this many, and this early.

On the crew deck, medical teams moved the wounded Krogan onto a medical bed. Every moment was marked by a complaint, some more vocal even violent than others, from the young Grunt. The Sorcerer had entered nearly silently, with only Garrus seemingly noticing the green lenses from his helmet. "Xeno." He said, startling three of the medical staff, the only exception being Dr. Chakwas. "If you continue to resist their actions; I shall rend your other arm from your hide." Causing the Krogan to calm slightly. The doctor looked at the Astartes.

"You did this?" She asked gesturing at the wound.

"Friendly fire is a disappointing, but inevitable part of war." The Astartes responded. If Garrus were suspicious he would assume he was joking.

Dr. Chakwas pinched her nose "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get Krogan prosthetics?" She asked accusingly. The Astartes turned and left. Leading his brothers towards their quarters. The silence of them still unnerved Garrus.

* * *

The Normandy was silent for hours as it headed for the Mass Relay. News that Chief Williams died due to such an inhumane weapon had spread, unnerving the crew. A debrief was finally called by Shepard after he added another name to the Normandy's memorial.

The Astartes was last to arrive, his ornate blue armor seemingly taking up most of the room. Oddly he chose to leave his brothers in their quarters. "Let's begin." Shepard stated.

"Technically the mission was a success." Miranda began. "But not the way we would have wanted it have it. The colony was completely lost, all those there are either dead or missing." She gestured towards Mordin to continue.

"The planet's atmosphere is also flooded with a toxic chemical, it-" Mordin was interrupted by the Astartes.

"Did you say the entire world?" He growled.

"Yes, and Garrus said you might have an idea on what exactly this chemical is?" The Salarian responded.

"It is a basic weapon that's used in simple area denial, or disruption; for long campaigns in particular." He raised his hand before Mordin could say anything. "Yet it would seem the Collectors have made it nearly a weak exterminatus grade weapon."

"How long are we talking?" Jacob asked.

"It depends on the planet's condition. A forge world, five years maybe. An agri-world, decades. For a world such as that, perhaps centuries."

"And the Collectors are just prancing about with that?" Zaeed said aggressively. The Astartes nodded at his words.

"If they have more of these we have to deal with them as soon as possible." Miranda stated.

"Tell me why is it we have no battlefleets hunting our foe?" The Astartes asked.

"Every one of these colonies are in the Terminus systems, no one truly owns it." Shepard told the Astartes.

"Perhaps we can use this as leverage to force their hands. The extermination of an entire world, the loss of a military officer…"

"The Batarians won't be amused by a witch hunt across space." Miranda interrupted the Astartes.

"Do not interrupt me. If they serve as a problem, I shall plunge their entire civilization into the Warp. And if you're pathetic governments does not act now…" The Astartes began to laugh. "Tell me how many worlds will it require for them to awaken?" Miranda was taken back by this question.

"Cerberus has acted on this situation since the first colony vanished!"

"I care not for a shadow faction's actions. Would it take Terra itself to fall to awaken you weaklings? I will not allow such an event to occur!" He turned to face Shepard, "What say you?" His lenses nearly cutting into his heart.

Shepard stood up straight before speaking. "I agree, we can't wait for the Collectors any longer. I also however agree with Miranda, we can't have the Alliance send its' fleet into the Terminus systems. It would spark a war with the Batarians, something we can't afford now." The Astartes lenses turned into a piercing crimson.

"We wait, and our foe will shed its' cowardice!" The Astartes voice was now that of a deafening roar causing everyone to take a step away from the giant.

"I'm well aware." Shepard said holding his ground. "While I'll try my best to ensure Alliance space, and perhaps even Citadel space is on high alert. There's not much else we can do, other than our current course of action!"

* * *

I was taken back by his stubborn courage. It was no easy feat to stand against an Astartes. Even men who courageously served in the Auxilia would not dare do such a thing. I sighed "If you are wrong Commander. I shall flay every single soul aboard this vessel. They will not die swiftly, but they will die in great pain." I walked out feeling somewhat defeated, it was disgraceful. The team also left the room when I did.

I chose this time to explore the ship, before returning to my studies of these people. The command deck was simple, the purpose of each control station was not to dissimilar to that of one of our own warships. The only thing that was truly different was the type of display, and the distinct lack of Servitors. I proceeded to the lab. Aside from the xeno, who thankfully ignored my inspection of the room. It was not too dissimilar from a techpriest's lab, other than Oxian's grand laboratory which made this seem modest. The armory was also simplistic, a few weapon racks and walls. Another reminder that these people are not prepared for war.

"Just wanted to say, I agree with you." I turned to see the voice was from the one referred to as Jacob. "We shouldn't just leave them defenseless out there." He was slightly more fit than most of the human crew, perhaps I'd see him on the field of battle to grade his performance.

"I wish to analyze your weaponry in person." I said to him, explaining why I even bothered with this room.

"Well we don't have the biggest variety. And all your stuff outshines anything we have here." He said to me as he grabbed what was available. With a single push of a button, the weapon unfolds from itself; even I will admit its' clever design.

Soon enough there were ten weapons on the table. "How do your weapons work exactly?" I asked.

He unscrewed one of the weapons, pulling off one of its' elegant plates. He pulled out a cylinder of metal from its' inner workings. He then grabbed a glowing red cylinder from a table behind him. "The gun shaves of grain sized fragments from this." He tapped the metal cylinder for emphasis. "It's than propelled along this line via magnetic force." He then pointed at the glowing cylinder. "This is a thermal clip, it takes up most of the heat produced. When it's done you just pop it out of the weapon." Even I'll admit the logistical median this offers. The actual ammo would only need to rarely be replaced, while the thermal clips are the only true downside. Not as sound as a lasgun's charging abilities, but better than autogun ammunition. I pulled out my bolt pistol, and ejected a single round.

I hoped that this mortal could even slightly assist our soon to be ammo problem. I reluctantly handed him the bolt. "God damn man, that's a beast!" I ignored the comment as it did not supprise me, these mortals seemingly abandoned the idea of large caliber weapons. Even the long rifles that they had used the same principle. I grabbed a black, and red pistol. "Yeah, most people go for the Carnifex." He said looking at the bolt thoroughly.

I looked at the pistol. "Do you know what that means?" I asked.

"It's Latin for butcher right?" He responded. I recalled my battles against Tyranids at this name. I also recalled how many brothers were granted a quick death at the tools of an Apothecary. Placing the weapon on the table, Jacob turned away from the bolt. "It looks powerful." He said, complementing the mighty round.

"Can you manufacture these?" I asked.

"I don't know, I'll need to scan it. Most likely disassemble it, but I might need Mordin for help." I sighed at the idea of a xeno being required for bolt shell manufacturing.

"Avoid it if necessary, but I'll need more ammunition. Ensure it can be manufactured aboard." I turned to leave.

"Alright, will do."

I proceeded to the elevator only to be forced onto the same short ride as the irritating bald woman. I believe she is titled Jack. The door sealed behind me, much to my distain she was heading for the engineering deck as well. "What's with the getup?" She asked sarcastically, by the Ocean I wanted to strangle her.

"My armor offers a much better chance of survival than your current apparel, and line of questions." I growled.

"Yeah, yeah. Why so fancy though? I mean come-on gold trim, head ornament; you're almost like a Christmas tree." I sent a psychic wave, knocking her into the elevator wall.

"You insult my legion mortal. Do it again, and you will die slowly." The elevator doors opened as I finished my threat. She got up and left the lift and went to the left. I proceeded to the right.

The door at the end of the hall opened, inside was the scared man named Zaeed. He was possibly the oldest mortal aboard, or perhaps saw the most combat; he showed it, but whether it was true would be shown in the field of battle. "What brings you to my humble abode?" He jokingly asked me, his accent was profound and something I had not heard before.

"I am inspecting the ship." I responded dismissively.

"Where are you from? You're human, and I've seen someone from almost every damn colony." His question was unexpected, perhaps I thought he would make a joke.

"Terra." My answer was simple, and the truth.

"Earth huh? Wouldn't expect someone like you from Earth."

"And where are you from? Your name, it's familiar in dialect" I asked.

He laughed. "Can't say I know where I'm from originally."

"You bear your scars, unlike many here. Care to share?" My question made him laugh.

He pointed to a circular scar on his head. "An asshole named Vido shot me and left me for dead. We tracked the bastard down to a refinery…" He paused for a moment "Shepard went to save some civilians, I chased the asshole down and burned him alive!" I nodded my head, a familiar story that I heard from renegades before. "What about you?" He asked.

I felt my scared flesh ached at this question. "Too many to count." I said hoping to avoid the question.

"Great…" He said with a chuckle.

"What?"

"Now all I picture is fucking Freddy Kruger under the armor." He laughed at his joke.

"I don't understand the reference." I stated.

"Wait really? Damn kids these days. I'll see if I could get a damn movie night from Shepard. You're the twentieth person who didn't get it." I chose to leave after he said that. At least he chose not to pursue a line of questioning, which I appreciated.

I turned left from the room. Another corridor greeted me, a stairwell leading down to where I assumed that irritation resided. I proceeded straight ahead, a room that I assumed contained a Warp Drive, or some similar device. A woman greeted me, she identified herself as Gabriella Daniels, and her fellow enginseer as Kenneth Donnelly.

"You are the tech-adepts of this ship?" I asked causing Kenneth to chuckle.

"You hear that Gabby? We're techno-wizards!" He said, by the Ocean I do not understand these peoples humor.

She glared at Kenneth. "Really?" She sighed after saying this. "Yes we're the engineers aboard the Normandy." She answered the question, and scolded the one who simply chose to make some poor joke. I may grow to approve of this crewmember.

"I am inspecting the vessel. Might I inquire what this is?" I was looking at a metallic sphere. It visibly produced a blue aura around itself.

"That's the Normandy's drive core, most advanced of its kind." She responded helpfully.

"It is not a Warp Drive that is for certainty."

"A Warp Drive? Can't say I've heard of that." Daniels said.

"You know, like Star Trek." Donnelly said, once again jokingly. It feels that this will turn into an annoyance.

I chose to explain to the female engineer the basic fundamentals of Warp travel, leaving out many details; yet again this was taught to every ship crewmember before the Heresy, so I did not care for parting with such knowledge. "So you're telling me. That your ships go into an alternate dimension to travel?" She said in disbelief. I nodded my head to confirm what I had said. "I mean our stuff just reduces your mass to propel you at higher speeds with less energy use. Your method, goddamn."

"I don't believe it." Donnelly said. "I mean going into an alternate dimension for travel? That violates nearly every law of physics."

"You saw him teleport Kenneth. And don't say 'He used biotics' Mordin said no emissions were found." She was oddly defending my information. I chose to leave before this obviously escalated into a pointless verbal argument.

Prior to entering the lift, I observed the Commander standing near a coffin. I assumed it held the corpse of his fallen comrade. 'Let him' I told myself, 'he will learn'. Yet I also told myself 'He is not an Astartes, nor has he has not even glanced at a sliver of what I have seen.' Both statements are correct.

The third deck contained my quarters, and was oddly the most appealing level. Despite the most mortals residing on it they now tended to ignore, or even avoid me. It reminded me of the Scion of Prospero, oddly I began to miss my students.

I decided to return to my studies. 'I can always explore this deck later' I thought. I returned to where I was prior to the mission, and decided to continue my studies of xenology.

Hours had passed by the time I finished most of my research on the xenos. The hardy Krogan, the militaristic Turians, the 'intelligent' Salarians, and many other ultimately pointless races that held in all honesty zero significance. Yet the one race that I overlooked was the Asari, upon initial visual inspection they seemed as if abhumans. Even their biology was similar enough. Yet something more than disturbed me; their society, and means of reproduction. Living for thousands of years they've spread across the galaxy, their 'enlightened' society in my eyes was one of decadence; the Salarians shove as much progress as their short lives allow, and the Turians follow a military state something not to uncommon in my experience. Yet the Asari live for millennia, without a true purpose; something that us Astartes, and even the Eldar can claim. Throughout their long lives they breed with other races, overwriting their genes to create more Asari. 'A blue xeno plague, slowly driving the other races to extinction in silence.' I concluded. Now I had a xeno that now disgusted my eyes, and my heart. A possible foe when our campaign against the Collectors is done.

* * *

Garrus opened the door to the Rec-hall, his calibrations now complete for the day. He saw the Astartes rising from the terminal that he'd supposedly used for hours on end. "Xeno." The Astartes addressed him. "I have a question."

He simply nodded his head, uncertain of what the Astartes could possibly ask. "Are interspecies relations common in this time?" He asked, in some regards taking the Turian off-guard.

"It's not uncommon, Shepard for example was with an Asari named Liara back on the original Normandy. Why do you ask?"

The Astartes was seemingly taken back by this. "And it's accepted?"

"Yes…" Garrus assumed the Astartes was xenophobic from his naming of both him, Grunt, and Mordin. This nearly confirmed it; and the idea of this beast bearing a hatred of non-humans, it was possibly the most terrifying concept in his life.

"You fear the unknown, xeno. That is obvious, and understandable. Yet you don't fear, or even consider the known. Why is that?"

This surprised Garrus, perhaps he thought the Astartes would be visibly livid at what he said. "Why worry about something that can at least guess about. Than something that can change at any moment." Garrus made this up on the fly, but it caused the Astartes to chuckle slightly.

"You speak both in fear, and wisdom xeno. You need not fear me, unless I require it to be that way." He was silent for a moment. "You are shaken from our skirmish. I can sense it in your mind."

Garrus was slightly taken back by this. 'Sense it in your mind.' It was an odd phrasing, and he thought he was hiding it fairly well. "Well, not much we could have done in the end?"

"That is uncertain, perhaps a better fate could have occurred; or it may have been crueler. It could have unfortunately been needed for a series of events."

"Still doesn't change the fact that we lost a damn good person." Garrus swiftly said.

"Indeed…" The Astartes responded.

They were silent for a moment. Garrus broke the silence. "You still owe me a story." He said with a chuckle.

The booming sigh from the Astartes made him believe that he had been lied to. It didn't disappoint him too much, in fact he was practically expected. "What do you wish to know?" Disappointment wheezed from his voice. His emerald eye lenses surveyed the room. "Not here however, the Abominable Intelligence is always analyzing every action."

Much of the crew were dumbfounded to see the Turian walk alongside the giant war machine into a room that according to the Normandy's systems did not exist. Everyone was ordered that that room was not even to be considered part of the Normandy in terms of jurisdiction; the Astartes ruled a section of a warship. Some in all honesty thought the Turian would be executed by him.

Upon entrance of the room Garrus was greeted by nine pairs of soulless emerald lenses. He then noticed something was off, the room was far darker than most of the Normandy and the normal blue hue of the Normandy's lighting was gone. Replaced by purple flame from candles that seemingly produced no heat, and had possibly hardly melted. "Apologies." The Astartes said, "At times I forget the weakness of both mortal, and xeno eyes." The flames grew in intensity, causing the room to glow in otherworldly light. Simply looking at the flames caused unease in the depths of Garrus's mind. "The Thousand Sons trade knowledge for knowledge, anything you ask must be answered yourself. And I may refuse to share at all."

Garrus briefly surveyed room, noticing five thick leather bound books stacked neatly in a corner. "Who are you really?" He asked.

"That is a wide question, xeno."

"Can you at least say your name?"

"I am the Outcast. Names hold an amazing amount of power xeno."

"Yeah, and I'm only known as Archangel." Garrus retorted hoping to show the ridiculousness of that statement. The Astartes only laughed.

"While our needs for such titles are for very different reasons. Our causes for possessing such titles are usually similar. I use it to defend my honor, and my soul. You used it to defend those close to your heart, yet distant from your reach." This nearly stopped Garrus's heart, how did this stranger know he had a family; abet a well-known one, it was strange that he knew regardless.

"Do you have a family?" Garrus asked seeing how the Astartes knew at least a little bit about his own.

"You're surrounded by them, and I have thousands more brothers." Garrus looked at the Rubric Marines, who stood as if they were to be inspected by an officer.

"It sounds more like that of an ancient military order. Than of a bloodline." Garrus stated.

"Both, we draw our genetic lineage from our Primarch. And view each other as fellow warriors, serving our cause until death. You have two questions you must answer yourself now."

Garrus sighed. "I have a father, and a sister. Not much else to really say on that subject. I do find it kinda amusing that your 'genetic lineage' is from a Primarch."

"Your head of government is titled as a Primarch. I can assure you that our Primarchs have done far more for the galaxy than your entire species. While there is no such thing as coincidence, there is also no doubt which is superior."

Garrus shrugged. "Why are you fixated on conflict? It seems as if you've never experienced a day of peace in your life. I know I couldn't last with only war."

The Astartes looked out the observation port. "It's all I know, most of the stars now serve as a battleground. I've been created for it, molded to conquer these stars..." He was silent. "After all, inevitably peace will become stagnant; no change will ever occur. Who knows what the people of this galaxy would look like if they knew only war? And besides peace is an illusion, a moment that breeds betrayal." This slightly disturbed Garrus, the idea of this giant being used for nothing but war.

"You say that as if you experienced it. Closest I had was on Omega, but right now that's just a gut feeling."

"No betrayal can ever be held near what I have seen. 'A brother betrayed, a brother murdered. The worst mistake for the noblest reason!' Those are the foreboding words my lord heard before madness consumed the galaxy." The Outcast's voice was that of his usual growl, yet there was something else there; sorrow perhaps, an unusual departure from the usual stern nature of the Astartes.

"Your lord?" Garrus asked.

"Lord Ahzek Ahriman, the Arch-Sorcerer. In some regards he is our other Primarch." The Outcast lowered his head. "He is the mightiest of us all. Seconded only by our Primarch, Magnus the Red."

Garrus looked into the candle flames, despite the pain it caused in his mind he was fixated on them. It felt as if it were trying to show him something, but it made him ask something he had not considered before. "Where did you get them?"

The Outcast laughed. "I oddly kept them, ever since that day."

Garrus tore his gaze away from the candles. "What day?"

He stopped laughing. "That is a tale for a later date. Now, I offered you one on the Death Guard. Did I not?" Garrus nodded at the Astartes words.

* * *

I surveyed to battlefield, awaiting the time for my brothers to strike. "Warlock." A heavy, growl like voice called. The sky blue armor of a wolf stood behind me; almost as if a contrast with my own crimson plate. "Our forces are meeting to orchestrate a plan for the next assault.' I sighed, the wolf like most of its' kin showing little respect.

"Very well wolf." My voice dripped with venom as I spoke at the whelp. His young age made me assume it was his first world. Our presence was not needed on this world. The humans who refused to bend the knee to the Emperor only needed a handful of legionaries; not the force that we had assembled. Five hundred Wolves, one hundred Salamanders, one hundred of Magnus's sons, and one thousand of the Death Guard. An oversaturation of Astartes.

"We should push the offensive now!" The Wolf Jarl cried out, his name was lost on me through time.

"Indeed, we can cut off the retreating forces by gassing these highways. Not only will we cause them to flee, but we will give them no means of escape." The Death Guard Captain boasted his 'ingenious' plan.

"What of the fleeing civilians?" The Salamander asked, clad in thick lizard hide that almost felt as if another layer of armor.

"They refused to kneel." The Wolf declared.

"No, they offered their surrender once we took their capital. This planet is ours, the more that we kill now means the longer it will take this world to rebuild; and would be a waste of time and resources." Auramagma, captain of the 8th fellowship spoke not with as much care for the civilians, but more as the pointlessness of this battle.

"We should broadcast a demand for the remaining soldiers to lay down their arms." I spoke up to the officers leading this worthless battle. "They're fighting to stop us from attacking the fleeing civilians."

"Us annihilating them out will intimidate the populace into compliance!" The Death Guard spoke.

The Salamander shook his head at this. "As Auramagma said, nothing will be left to comply with the Imperium!"

"Does it matter with this world?" The Wolf growled. "The people here still use autoguns, and were a fragmented world. What good would this world provide us?"

"You forget that they're humans, nearly completely pure humans!" The Salamander yelled at the Wolf.

The Death Guard slammed his gauntlet down onto the table. "As head of the largest Astartes force present! We shall proceed with my plan!" As he declared this I opened up a closed vox link with Auramagma.

"Must we bear this any longer?" I asked. We both say how pointless this was, yet we were forced to stay till the end.

I heard him sigh into the vox. "Yes, sadly we must wait till the Wolves and the Death Guard have the slaughter they so want." I laughed. "What amuses you 'Outcast'?

"We could deny them the slaughter."

"There's no point, it's better we just wait."

"You said it yourself, this world will be worthless once these fools are done." I stated.

"What do you have in mind?" He asked.

"Our transports have environmental protection if needed. But if we broadcast the surrender signal, and 'capture' our foe before they launch their attack." I said my plan; between us, and the Salamanders it would be a simple task.

"What if they respond violently to our move?" He asked, already knowing the answer, but he was testing me more so.

"Do you truly think they would fire upon us? Where would their glory be if the Emperor had to judge them?"

"Very well, I shall speak to the Salamanders."

Hours passed as we waited in our Thunderhawk. The plan was simple; occupy the enemy position, load captives and transport them to a 'P.O.W' camp. "You are not doing this to rob them of glory are you?" Khenti asked.

"No, I am not." I stated "The Salamanders are right, we can't simply let the civilians get slaughtered for no purpose at all."

Khenti chuckled. "At least we agree. The deaths of them would be meaningless, and counterproductive. Herumon is the same. And Lukman just wants to leave this damnable rock." I nodded as the Thunderhawk made its' accent.

The enemy trenches were abandoned, those who once held it now march south hands raised. Their tattered green uniforms, and damaged armor showed that many were simply lucky to have survived this long. "We're gathering the captives at an arena three kilometers from here. The Wolves, and the Death Guard are furious that not a single shot was fired." This report made me laugh, they're robbed of their 'glory' by something the Emperor would have preferred.

The Salamanders were 'noble' enough to use their Rhinos to transport the severely wounded. The behavior of the Salamanders made me wonder what breed of 'compliance' they would have created from this lost colony. No doubt a more productive one than what the Death Guard would have left. We assembled the 'captives' into a large open structure; some cultures used gladiatorial combat for entertainment. If it were used here it would be whole formations would go against one another.

"Attention citizens!" The loudspeakers erupted into the voice of the Death Guard Captain. "Your planet is now part of the Glorious Imperium of Man! However the sins of your past will not be forgotten!" My heart stopped, I thought this bastard would not be this bitter.

The Death Guard aircraft dropped their gas onto their target. Every man, woman, and child present, painfully and slowly died for absolutely nothing. While the hundred thousand deaths were far lower than the calculated dead of nearly a million. The loss of life was a waste. Despite the Guard, and the Wolves declaring our actions 'dishonorable, and rogue'; the Salamanders declaring the same accusation on their brother legions. Neither were punished or perhaps even seen by the higher Imperium. Yet the world fell into revolution five years later, leading to another multi-billion dead conflict. Inevitably, it was a waste.

* * *

"I shall end my tale here, xeno." I said.

Garrus's mandibles opened slightly before closing. "So, you do care about civilian life after all." I nodded slightly. "You know, I guess it means you are, how does it go? 'Human after all?'" He slightly chuckled.

Shaking my head I responded simply. "Our definitions are very different."

Garrus lowered his head slightly. "I'm guessing your stories often don't end well?"

"Many of my stories are often a tragedy, each is possibly a required one. Time will answer that question." I sighed as I said this. "Prove not only yourself, but everyone aboard this ship if you wish to see me continue." The xeno nodded and turned to leave. "Don't share what you have heard. Or I will not let you, or anyone who heard about this live." He nodded once again, but stopped.

"The insignia on your shoulderplate, it's familiar." I looked him in the eyes, my curiosity peaked. "I may be wrong, but I swear I've seen something like it somewhere." This perplexed me, I swiftly made a mental note of this and knew I had to research it as soon as I could. He left while I processed this.

* * *

Author's Note: I wished to apologize for the delay, and (personally) a weaker chapter than previous ones.


	7. Chapter 6: Blade, Bolter, and Machine

Chapter 6: Blade, Bolter, and Machine.

The Turian left the Astartes quarters; his nerves calmed, while he still doesn't trust the Outcast, his actions were still quite amiable. Garrus turned to head to the main gun only to be greeted by the prying eyes of ten of the crew. Including the eyes of Miranda. "So…" She said to attract Garrus's attention. "How'd it go?" She asked.

Garrus simply shrugged. "Not much to tell. And if there was, I wouldn't say." She simply crossed her arms. "Really, you want to know so much?"

"Considering how unknown they are…"

She was interrupted by a chuckle from Garrus. "Prove yourself." He said.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Prove yourself. That's all you need to do." He responded as he walked over to the gun battery.

* * *

I continued to wander the Ocean in my seemingly endless free time. Occasionally I'd send a ripple throughout its' endless calm; hoping for a response. In all honesty I wouldn't mind seeing any of the innumerable inhabitants of the Warp. Perhaps it's my own might that kept them distant, but it would still be foolish to make myself vulnerable even for a moment. I sighed as I reached out. It felt as if this were an illusion; a strong one at that. Yet I felt as if I was being observed, not by a god or daemon, but a living soul. A smile formed across my face. +Nakanus, take Gahiji's blade and follow me.+ If it is a fellow psyker I will be prepared to face it if needed.

* * *

Oxian emerged from the rift violently coughing, despite his lungs being vastly improved by cybernetics; it was as if he was drowning. His sensors were unable to adapt swiftly to this sudden change. Completely blind he reached out for the nearest object. He was glad to know that he could process through his long since replaced limbs. 'A stone surface.' He concluded. He reached out again. 'Nanowoven cloth.' With this he hypnotized that some of his Skitarii stood with him, no doubt as blind as he was. Oxian began to chant in binary, hoping to appease the untainted machine spirit to return at least some of his basic sensors.

Environmental readouts were among the first to appear, warning him of a minor solar radiation danger. His eyesight returned slowly, but he easily identified where he was. "Ruins, no familiar design. Imperial, or xeno, primitive as well." He muttered to himself. He then turned to his Skitarii, he scanned over them five in total. Peltast-Alpha-23 Lacrimae lied dead, his cybernetics corrupted and his mind, thankfully, destroyed. Two lie unconscious, their minds and cybernetics reeling through the trauma of a Warp rift; it did not help that the use of innumerable combat stimulants clouded their nervous system in what was supposed to be a last stand. Tribune-49 Sortiarius was regaining the last of his senses, upon seeing his lord standing he sent a noospheric report; as was his duty as the leader of Oxian's personal guard. The report was dismissed as it merely stated the obvious. The only reports worth truly noting was of the only Skitarius not amongst the dazed group. Ranger-7 Prospero, the only Skitarius to earn a place in Oxian's guard from the third cohort.

#Report.# Oxian ordered over their link.

#Honored Techpriest.# She acknowledged, #Movement has been spotted: .87 kilometers from our insertion, bearing 300.#

Oxian desired more data than this, but for now it gave a possible objective. #Tribune, take the body and equipment of Alpha-23. See if you are able to awaken Vanguard-99 and Peltast-12; if unable to, secure their equipment and carry them.# The Tribune bowed at Oxian before performing his duty. #Ranger-7, maintain observation. Fall into the unit once we near your position.#

#Yes my lord.# The Ranger responded. Oxian turned his attention to the Tribune who had managed to awaken the Secutarii Peltast.

#My lord.# The Tribune turned to Oxian, presenting a data storage device. #This was the STC that Alpha-23 possessed.#

Oxian reached out and took the device. #Do any of you possess any additional STCs? Or even tomes that we acquired? He asked all of his Skitarii.#

#A shamefully small amount my lord.# The Tribune responded, hauling the dead Skitarius over his shoulder as the Secutarii did the same with the Vanguard. #We each possess something. Ranger-7 carries one tome. Otherwise…# Oxian knew the sense of defeat that the Tribune felt, he was experiencing it as well. Such thoughts however would not be needed in a soldier, as Oxian dialed back the Tribune's emotional stimuli. But to lose so much, it may have been better to simply die standing.

#My lord.# Ranger-7 interrupted Oxian's contemplations. #Movement appears to be abhumans, or possibly xenos.# She reported.

'Xenos?' Oxian thought. 'If that's the case than how is she unable to differ them with abhumans?' #Verify.# He ordered as he began to advance with his guard.

#Unknowns are wearing full suits, humanoid appearance.# There was a pause as the Ranger processed new information. #No technological similarities with Tau xenos, little visual biological similarity. Possible unknown xeno presence.# Such information shocked Oxian, the possibilities of a new xeno race fascinated him. The prospect of new technology to examine was an intriguing one to say the least. It saddened him that he had no way to interface with the Ranger's optics.

#Maintain previous orders.#

#Yes my lord.# He would have been smiling if he was not fantasying. The idea of 'first contact' revolved around his head. Would he be humble, and treat them with respect? Would he preach the 'glories of the Imperium' or perhaps act as a zealot of Chaos to intimidate perhaps even subjugate them? Or even kill a few with their plasma weapons, and dissect one right in front of them? The endless possibilities caused him to cackle slightly.

#Unknown aircraft! No known model, roughly the size of a Valkyrie!# The report broke his line of plots. #Aircraft are dropping unknown forces.#

#Report on new forces, than fall back to us.# Oxian ordered.

#The dropped units are opening fire onto the unknown force 01. The dropped units appear to be Cybernetica.# The Ranger reported as her glyph pulled away from her post, and sprinted toward the Techpriest.

'Combat Automata?' Oxian was truly interested in this development. Possibilities raced around his mind, xenos with the Tau being the only exception rarely use machines in combat. And he did not doubt his Ranger's identification indoctrination. 'More new xenos?' He concluded with slight glee.

The Ranger with the grace required of the role, vaulted over the various stone blocks that littered the landscape hardly slowing. My lord. She said while making the sign of the cog. He ignored the gesture, normally he would send a disciplinary line of code at the Skitarius. Despite according to his 'colleagues' in the Dark Mechanicum always stating he was closer to the 'blind, self-centered fools' than their self-proclaimed 'enlightened' minds; he viewed himself more reminecant of the ancient priesthood.

It wasn't long before he saw one of the craft the Skitarius spoke of. A dark grey beast, appearing almost like that of an insect. Its' lack of wings fascinated Oxian, as its' seemingly lack of strong vertical thrusters made it a miracle to fly. A desire to disassemble it and learn its' secrets filled his mind. His unit followed suit as he increased his pace.

* * *

Shepard looked over the new dossiers provided by the Illusive Man, in many regards he was overjoyed to see Tali's appear; especially after their first tense encounter since being brought back. Garrus was the first person he spoke to on the subject. Much like himself, he was glad to see a familiar face; or in this case mask.

"Well I'm glad of all the people it's her." Garrus said, after putting down the datapad. "I'm guessing I'll be going with you?"

Shepard merely nodded, "You and Mordin. The file says it's a simple research mission, so we won't need a large team."

"In Geth space…" Garrus retorted "No offence Shepard, but we shouldn't take our chances. Not anymore."

Shepard sighed as Garrus said this. "Is that what he told you?"

"Not at all…"

"Than what are you suggesting? We could bring a larger team, but I don't want to bring them down with us!" Shepard asserted with a growl to his friend.

Garrus's mandibles twitched slightly at Shepard's outburst. "I'm not suggesting all of them."

"Than what are you suggesting?" Shepard asked, his brow raised yet his voice still showing his hatred towards this idea.

"You should ask him to only bring, at most, two of his brothers. If he refuses, push it onto him; I think he respects your opinion." Garrus stated with confidence.

"I don't think that's fully the case."

"Bullshit Shepard!" Garrus snapped. "He could have forced your hand during that debrief, and we could have done nothing about it! You stood up to him, and he backed down. Not out of fear, but either out of respect or maybe something else entirely! It's worth a shot."

"Why not you? You're the one who spoke to him privately." Shepard pointed out.

Garrus laughed slightly, before gesturing to his scar. "Pretty sure he's seen enough of my face." His jest only caused Shepard to sigh.

"We'll talk later." Shepard said as he left the gun battery.

* * *

A small crowd had formed around the Outcast and his brother as they sparred in the cargo bay. Each action was a blur in their eyes, the incredible speed of their strikes was inhuman. Occasionally their blades would come to an abrupt halt near the joints of their armor, each would turn almost as into a statue. After which they would head to separate ends of their arena. And the unnamed Astartes would assume a completely separate form of sword fighting. It was jarring to the spectators how flawlessly the change occurred from a modern fencing style, to that of a berserker bringing his two Egyptian like blades against his commander in a flurry of invisible blows.

Shepard silently joined the crowd after this was reported by EDI, and like the rest of the crowd watched in silent awe. The first thing he noticed in the three bouts he witnessed is the exceedingly varied times, some duels ended in as little as two seconds; some as long as a minute. And the extremely low forgiveness of a failed move, a single misplaced strike ended the duel. Mordin stood amongst the crowd, recording each bout and slowing it to a much more visible level. After watching a clip from a shorter match; one thing irked Shepard. The Outcast seemingly knew where each blow would need to be parried. While it could be chalked up to their reflexes and speed, it seemed as if these matches were rehearsed.

* * *

It would seem my need to focus on Nakanus's sparing ability had left me shamefully oblivious to the gathering of mortals around me. Each strike he made was that of a vast assortment of swordsmanship techniques. Each match I focus more so on a separate technique. Ultramarine, to Space Wolf; Grey Knight, to Alpha Legionnaire. Each near death encounter I've had by such foes, I remember oh so vividly.

And I shame my brother's shell by having it mimic their actions. While at times it's necessary, such as his mimicry allowing me to much more accurately predict my foes actions; it's still a desecration. I parried my brother's blow, now a mockery of a Grey Knight Justicar that I faced three thousand years ago. Nakanus lunged forward, our blades coming into contact for a fraction of a second. He slashed his blade in a move to decapitate me. I moved my staff to parry his blow once more, an action I was successful with. That was until Nakanus moved my blade to prevent a final lunge into him. He raised his left arm, and in that pointless action I knew of my defeat. He mimicked the action that led to my defeat three millennia prior.

The mortals stood around bewildered at my brother's action. I simply began to laugh at my own inability to counter this action. +We are done for now brother.+ He sheathed his blades at my order. I turned to see the Commander, I acknowledged his presence with a nod.

"I'd much rather know that you'll be doing this beforehand." He said, slightly annoying me.

"I have too much free time aboard this vessel." I snorted, "I must keep my skills sharp. After all we won't be facing many greenskins, or other challenging foes."

"Greenskins?" I sensed his cluelessness.

"Orks. It's not entirely odd that you don't know of that cancer in the galaxy." I heard the laugher of some of the crew who overheard me, even Shepard slightly snickered at this. "Considering an Ork is more than capable of rendering many creatures limb from limb with little effort; you're mockery is ill advised."

Shepard slightly coughed to square himself away swiftly. "We're planning an operation to recruit a new member of the team, I was wondering…"

"Who is it we're recovering?" I interrupted.

"Tali, she's an engineer; we fought together against Saren."

"What is she?"

Shepard stepped back slightly at my question. "She's a Quarian…" He responded.

"A Quarian?" I spoke aloud, the name was oddly familiar when spoken by a mortal.

"Is that going to be a problem?" He asked me.

I shook my head, "No it will be fine; as long as she performs admirably I will not care." My mind was still attempting to wrap around where I heard such a name before.

"Oh… Ok. And I was just wondering if you'll join us." My mind snapped out of its' trance when he asked this question.

"We shall join you Shepard." I responded.

"Only one problem…" He started. "Is it acceptable for you to bring no more than two of your brothers?" He asked respectfully.

"Why is that?" I inquired.

"Tali's part of an exhibition into Geth space. A smaller team will ensure mobility…" I was about to interrupt with the simple fact that all ten of us hold more maneuverability than his team. He saw, or perhaps predicted such a question and simply continued on. "And the Quarians are pretty jumpy at times. So I'd rather not have them be concerned about ten heavily armed, and armored soldiers walking about." I sighed as he finished.

"Very well Shepard, I shall have a smaller force for this encounter." It was not his reasoning that caused me to decide this; but one exceedingly lesser asset, ammunition. Each of my brothers expended roughly thirty rounds each, and Ocean knows how many Soulreaper rounds against the Collectors. I found myself snickering beneath my helm, inaudible to those around me. I never hoped for a change in fate for something so minor.

* * *

The Illusive man was astounded by the stream of data that he had received in the past few moments. The surprisingly simplistic design of their 'Bolts' was fascinating. "How could something so basic do all this?" He muttered to himself while overlooking the photos from Horizon; tradition weapons had a minor effect against their foes in comparison. He took a look once more at the rough schematics. While the design was simple, its' materials were far from it. A lightweight alloy, while possible to make, would be stronger than any alloy produced by any civilization in the galaxy; it would also be incredibly expensive for use in mere ammunition. Yet the rounds' core was ultimately impossible to reproduce. EDI claimed it too was an incredibly strong alloy, nearly impossible to break in fact. It might take the heat of the sun to be forged in anyway, another impossibility presented by the Astartes. EDI claimed they could replace this alloy with depleted uranium, but at the cost of some firepower. Even still, funding such a project would be expensive; and with Cerberus's funding sent to other projects, it would be difficult if not impossible to create an ammunition infrastructure on the fly. Along with secondary research teams reporting an 'overly high' recoil to be produced by such weapons, and no one has any idea on the incendiary nature of the fired rounds. The Illusive Man merely sighed, and deemed mass production of these weapons impossible.

Yet all was not lost. As the alloys reveal some of the Astartes armor composition. The Illusive Man wasn't surprised to see the layers of plating of various alloys, each one rendering even heavy weapons nearly useless. But it only raises the question, 'why do they use swords?' Perhaps their strength permits such a tactic, or they're the only ones to use such armor. It was almost amusing; the potential source of human supremacy across the stars remains an enigma to man itself. His train of thought was halted as a new report appeared from the historical research division. It was a series of Prothean texts, cross referenced with the Astartes own.

He then froze. The large observation room temperature seemingly dropped substantially as he stared at the innumerable texts adorning their armor. He felt as if he was watched, as a predator watches its' prey. Trying to pry his eyes from the images was almost impossible, the Illusive Man's head began to ache the longer he stared. Whispers, endless whispers, in a guttural tongue could be heard. They drew closer, causing him to nearly scream in terror if he was not also intrigued by the alien words. The whispers ended, leading to a deep chuckle. "At long last." The voice called.

* * *

The Ranger, and Peltast served as Oxian's vanguard; their plasma calivers poised. Integrated scanners possessed by the Ranger managed to paint a clear picture of the situation. The cybernetica were dropped onto the xenos with little resistance, leading to a hastily withdrawal, leaving many stranded xenos to their fate. It was saddening to see his new batch of test subjects flee and get cut down. Yet a few patches were putting up a notable resistance. #My lord. Cybernetica approach our position.# The techguard halted, placed their nonfunctional comrades on the ground and aimed the deadly weapons.

They faced nine of the unknown force, their single 'eye' glaring almost like a spotlight as they two forces stared at each other. The cybernetica's design was odd; their sleek bodies and lack of truly heavy firearms was unlike the Imperial's design philosophy. They returned the threat of plasma annihilation by aiming their weapons right back. #Hold.# Oxian ordered, as they stood off. #Do you hear that?# He asked his guard.

Indeed these almost Tau like constructs were emitting a series of screeches, almost like a klaxon. Yet there was a bizarre order to it. It swiftly became clear that these were packets of code. "Interesting, is it not?" Oxian asked his Skitarii as he approached the machine. Both sides not lowering their weapons as he made his advance. #Do you hear me? You're combat machines are impressive in design, yet I'm uncertain why they commune with each other…# Oxian asked to the machine, hoping the controller would respond in some way; he trialed off into thought, uncaring of the weapons that were bared against him. #Perhaps you're utilizing command models to bounce your orders amongst each unit! Commendable yet inefficient, as the death of said unit would lead to defeat.# Oxian spoke in binary to the machine once more.

It blurted out another complex block of code at Oxian, it was incoherent even to him annoying the knowledge hungry techpriest. He activated his mechadendrites, and with the speed of an Astartes interfaced with the machine; hoping to speak with its' spirit.

One was not found, but nine, and that nine was linked to thousands; no millions more. #How… How is that possible?# He felt the linked spirits fight against his communion, nearly overpowering him. "How is this possible?!" He bellowed as he severed his connection. He backed away, nearly losing balance from his arachnid like legs as he withdrew to his guard. The machine regained its' senses swiftly, terrifying Oxian even more so. "How?" He raised his plasma rifle in one hand, power axe in the other. His back mounted mechadendrites extended their lascutters, and power-claws. "No I see! You are corrupted with a claim of sentience! You are an Abominable Intelligence!" His voice was enraged as he cleaved an abomination in two with his lascutters.

Upon hearing the techpriest's words, the Skitarii felt the rage in their own cybernetic hearts as they fired. Each ball of searing plasma reduced the machines into ash and slag. Upon losing a four of their machine brethren they turned on their new foe. Sending bursts of blue light towards the Skitarii, much to Oxian surprise, the rounds bounced off or became lodged in the heavy war plate of his guard. However unlike the Astartes they've fought beside; they are not fully incased in armor. The abominations fire managed to damage the Peltast's unprotected arms, and nearly severed one of his legs. The attack did not stop the Skitarii as he continued to shift his aim to the closest foe, slaying it in righteous plasma.

The Tribune surged forward, arc maul in hand and an arc pistol in the other. A bolt of electricity fired out of his weapon, destroying a construct by overloading its' inner workings. He then crashed the maul into the next construct, rupturing its' weak armor and overloading its' systems. The ranger tailed behind the Tribune, drawing her combat knife and letting her caliver rest on its' leather strap. She plunged her blade into the singular lens of the machine, before drawing a laspistol and finishing it with a precise shot through the chest.

Oxian noted the swiftness of the battle, and noted either to the performance of the Skitarii; or the weakness of the 'Men of Iron' they faced. #Peltast-12, damage report.#

#Maneuverability: Compromised by 47%. Minor damage to left arm.# He reported.

#You shall carry the Alpha, and Vanguard. The loss of maneuverability is unacceptable!# Oxian scolded the Skitarius.

#Movement!# The Ranger called out, causing the party to raise their weapons. An unfamiliar xeno approached the group, moving from cover to cover oddly staying exposed to the Skitarii. It was wearing an oddly designed red environmental suit, with a tan cloth 'cowl' adorning the upper torso. The head of the creature was hidden behind a purple visor and an elongated helmet.

It took cover near Oxian, his Skitarii awaiting the order to kill the beast. The xeno spoke in a tongue not to dissimilar to that of a human, yet in a completely unknown language. It looked at the melted machines. "Keelah." The xeno muttered, staring at the molten wrecks; occasionally glancing at the Skitarii's glowing weapons. A few machines fired upon their position, "Geth Bosh'tet!" It yelled, shielding its' head from any possible shrapnel. Ranger-7 aimed at the aggressors and swiftly reducing them to slag. The xeno started speaking its' foreign tongue once more. Oxian noted due to the spacing, and calm demeanor it was some form of report. He simply laughed how it seemingly expected him to know its language. Upon seeing this it raised its' rifle and fired at the molten wreaks, and pointed towards the direction it came from.

'At least that's understandable.' Oxian thought to himself as he ordered his Skitarii forward towards the fray.

* * *

"We're approaching Haestrom now. ETA ten minutes." Joker stated over the cargo deck's intercom. I was already prepared for battle. Herumon, and Laudren stood resolutely by my side. The Turian handed me his copies of the upcoming recruitment dossiers. This pleased me, it showed this minor, and in many ways subtle influence may bloom in the end.

The documents were simplistic, a lack of proper current information was a simple annoyance. In truth the bulk of the dossier was a rough history, and notable actions by the xeno in question. And that was another thing that irked me, only xenos. Whilst the few currently aboard was something to simply break the monotony of being on a warship. But no xeno is as useful as a human. And it was almost laughable to see an Asari 'justicar' to be one of the names. An Asari dares to take such a title. I merely sighed as I turned to face the group. The Commander chose to bring the Salarian, and Vakarian. It's still strange to see the officer of a ship to lead ground incursions. Considering how much could go wrong, and the difficulty of replacing such an individual.

"Is it wise for you to join us Commander? I'm certain you're XO is more than capable of leading this operation." I voiced my concern while making a logical suggestion.

"It won't be necessary." He stated. "Garrus and I know Tali, it would no doubt make this easier." While that did indeed have logic backing it, it was still misguided.

"Entire Guard regiments have collapsed when the head is severed." I spoke from my experience. "You fall what would come of your team?" My question caused the three of them to look at me. All of them were well aware of my inquiry, and yet like children they seemingly view themselves as invincible. I sighed, "There's three aboard this ship who could possibly replace you. The Guard could, in theory, have thousands in their chain of command, yet as I said, they can easily collapse."

"And those three would be?" Shepard asked, while he was no doubt aware of the answer. He was more so probing my response.

"Ms. Lawson would serve well as an administrative officer." I spoke truthfully, while I've yet to see her in combat, it's obvious of the information at her disposal would be a great asset. "Vakarian would serve as a strike team leader, and most likely as Lawson's XO." Once again a truth, his combat expertise was that of Guardsman who fought one or two battles.

"You said three?" Vakarian asked for Shepard.

"In the event of a total collapse. I would assume command." I blankly stated, while I would find no joy in such an action, the threat the Collectors pose to humanities past is severe enough to force my hand.

"Not going to happen." Shepard stated.

I chuckled slightly at his words, if this were the Great Crusade I would execute him and assume command immediately; simply to prove my point. "Ensure than it doesn't happen." Perhaps this may keep him from getting himself killed. "Regardless…" I continued. "It is still odd to have a naval officer fight on the ground. The Imperial Navy would never permit one such as yourself to throw yourself in such 'pointless' danger. Ramming would be seemingly be the only exception."

"Well this isn't the Imperial… Wait, did you say ramming?" Shepard looked at me with a confused expression.

"At times a frigate's ram can disable an enemy ship, or a battleship could tear it in two. Inelegant, yet effective; trench warfare, mechanized, and human waves, are other examples of that statement." I mindlessly said.

"Trench warfare? What the hell! I'm certain the First World War taught how much of a bad idea that is!" Shepard was audibly surprised by this, but it raised a question.

"The First World War?" I asked.

Shepard was silent for a few seconds before speaking. "You know, early 1900s, millions dead? You're over 10,000 years old, so shouldn't you have even basic knowledge of it?" Then it snapped. By the Ocean, how could I have been so foolish? Terran history! Most, if not all was lost in the Age of Strife; and yet here I am, sitting on a repository of ancient knowledge.

"I see…" It was all I could muster. I was a fool, I spent two centuries simply searching for even the slightest amount of our history. "Is it possible to obtain physical copies on this subject?" I asked.

"I can have datapads of the World Wars sent to your quarters." The AI stated, causing me to nearly growl.

"Do so abomination." I said through clenched teeth, if the nature of this materiel was not important I would have reprimanded it for listening.

"If you view those types of combat as 'inelegant', what do you view as elegant?" The Salarian abruptly asked.

I smirked beneath my helmet as I narrowed my line of thoughts, and reached out to the Immaterium. "Tell me, are crew members often ridiculed aboard these ships when they suffer an injury outside of combat?" I asked as I counted down from seven.

They looked at me, perplexed by my seemingly random question. "Abomination, how is the crew member on deck three?" I asked.

"Engineer Donnelly has suffered minor injuries due to an unresolved spill at the mess hall." The AI reported.

I chuckled slightly before speaking. "There was a chance for him to break his neck in that incident. Precognition is finicky at times." I slightly boasted.

"Wait, you predicted that would happen?" Shepard asked, causing me to merely nod. "Why don't you do it more often?"

"I use it in combat all the time. Yet I assume you mean, 'tell you your future'. What would be gained if I did that? You would not be proving yourselves. To know where, and how to face your foe means you never learn." I explained simply.

"But Horizon may not have been lost!" Shepard yelled.

"Its loss was necessary. Commander, I recommend that you do not continue this."

"Necessary? All those people were nothing but collateral to you?" Shepard accused.

"Indeed, they're sacrifice was necessary. We bloodied our foe…"

Shepard was about to retort before the deployment klaxons sounded.

* * *

The Quarian personnel, despite being caught off guard by the sudden attack, managed to rally and form multiple defensive positions. It still did the not counter the fact that they were cut off and facing a foe outnumbering them ten to one. Kal'Reegar's marines were few, and far between. And the losses simply continued to rise as they attempted counter-attacks to save the surrounded civilians.

Endless status reports were being fed to him as he sprinted in front of the robed soldiers, yet they were nearly impossible to understand due to the sun's radiation and Geth jamming. "I need a proper sitrep!" He ordered, the marine it was intended for simply froze upon seeing the new arrivals. "They're 'friendly', sitrep now!"

"Dropships are dropping more Geth right in the center! Scouts are reporting they've deployed a Colossus, not far from where Tali's hiding!" He reported, while staring into the crimson lenses of the robed soldiers.

"Alright, take a fire team to the left flank. Suppress the Geth, these guys will flank right and hopefully get some good shots on those Bosh'tets!" Kal'Reegar ordered. He was well aware on how dire the situation is, but if there is a Colossus on the field; they'd need to take it out before it could get to Tali, otherwise this operation would have been for nothing. "Alright." He said as he turned to what he had hoped were allies. "You'll be flanking on the right!" He activated a map on his Omni-Tool as he spoke.

"Impressive" The hulking beast said. "A holographic cogitator."

Kal'Reegar simply ignored this, "The Geth are here." Red triangles appeared on the map. "On the right, there's an elevated position. Lay down heavy fire from there." The robed soldiers seemingly lost interest.

"I'm uncertain why you think I would understand you." The beast muttered. "But I shall take my Skitarii to the right flank. We shall purge this place of these Abominations. Peltast-12 will maintain this position with our ineffective Skitarii, maintain a three meter distance from said units." Kal'Reegar smirked beneath his mask, glad his order got across. Yet the demeanor of these people unnerved him.

Before they left, the massive beast extended a back mounted arm. An energy beam drew a literal 'line in the sand.' He pointed to it, before making a primitive slash movement with his arm. Kal'Reegar simply nodded, not caring about the lack of translation equipment; for right now, they need all the help they could get.

* * *

There was nothing in the way of breathing room aboard the Kodiak, the three Astartes stood unfazed by the claustrophobic cabin. "Solar radiation's interfering with my scans." The Kodiak pilot reported. "You're shields won't last long in direct exposer."

"Do you hear that?" The Outcast abruptly asked. The Kodiak began to take evasive actions, the violent maneuvers caught Shepard's team off guard.

"We got what looks like Geth firing at us!" The pilot yelled, panting at his sudden rush of adrenaline.

"Open the door!" The Outcast bellowed. "I'll deploy right on top of them. Then find a secure place to land."

"Are you insane?" Shepard yelled at the Marine. Is question was unanswered, as the side door suddenly opened. The Astartes nearly capsized the Kodiak as they sprinted out, dropping at least twenty meters. Their decent seemingly slowed by an unknown force.

Dropping feet first into the fray, they swiftly raised their bolters towards the few Geth constructs in their way. Precise rounds shattered their hulls before the machines could raise their own weapons. They began to advance toward their foe, moving cover to cover, their armor shielding them from the deadly radiation. The Geth swiftly moved heavy weapons to counter the sudden appearance of an armed, and armored foe. Missiles streaked across the ancient Quarian ruins, each missed shot destroying much of their lost history. Yet none of the shots made contact with the Astartes. Despite the sophistications of the Geth targeting systems, which often permitted near perfect accuracy when in a large unit. The missiles veered wildly of course due to unknown reasons, some of the missiles even managed to hit the front ranks of Geth troopers. In milliseconds the Geth concluded to sending a platoon strength force against these unknown foes.

To the innumerable number of linked AIs this was the strangest engagement in their history. As the deployment of two small unknown units managed to change this from a swift victory, to a costly one, or even a defeat. Yet they continued to engage their foes.

Bolter rounds wreathed in warp fire arced across the battlefield, their master enforcing perfect accuracy from his companions. The Geth could merely feel their connection with their fellows being rapidly shattered. Blades drawn, the Rubric Marines charged at the Geth positions. Like a furious hammer they struck, cleaving machines in two with minimal effort. Their master stood back, wreathing Warp lightning on any Geth armed with a heavy weapon.

A Geth hunter charged towards the Sorcerer. Despite its' cloak making it undetectable to any normal human, it was easy prey for an Astartes. Drawing his Serpentia with a fluid motion, the beam tore through the machine's hull; its' inner circuitry becoming a blazing inferno. Two large crimson constructs appeared from the structure that the Geth had been attempting to hold. They stood as tall as the Astartes they were sent to face, and armed with the most advanced infantry weapons the Geth could manufacture. The Primes advanced into the fray, one wielding a rotary cannon; unleashing a hail of phasic slugs toward the Sorcerer. The rounds sparked beautifully off his ornate armor, but something surprised him. The weapon was actually damaging his armor. Small segments of Ceramite were being chipped away, slowly to be certain, yet if given time the damage would be noticeable. Holstering his Serpentia, and drawing his bolt pistol he fired three shots at the machine. All the bolts made contact, blasting large chunks out of its torso; each shot visibly knocking it back and staggering it. Yet it recovered, steadying itself and maintaining its' torrent of fire. Another three bolts were sent out, one rending its' head from its body; the other two landing squarely in the chest, causing the machine to explode in spectacular fashion.

The second Prime advanced, it wielded a larger weapon than its fellow. Firing a single, large shot at the Sorcerer. The projectile was stopped by a small Kine Barrier, but the Prime used this as an opportunity to charge. Few creatures in the galaxy could withstand a Prime in melee, only the Krogan could stand as equals. Even the small barrier took a bulk of the Sorcerer's concentration, with having to direct his Rubricae, he was easy to prey. The Prime's synthetic muscles were pushed to its breaking point as it struck, the punch would have caved in a majority of a Krogan's organs; but it was facing an Astartes.

"Be honored abomination… I actually felt that." The Sorcerer grabbed the Prime's head in his armored gauntlet, crushing its optical systems. Hauling the machine over his body before smashing it to the ground. The Prime, stubbornly, attempted to rise to its feet; relying solely on other units data for its movement. The Outcast grasped his staff with both his hands, and skewered the machine as it rose, ending its pitiful resistance.

Sensing the loss of their greatest assets, the Geth formed a staggered withdraw. Leaving behind smaller units to probe the Astartes for any possible future weakness. They were swiftly cut down by the blades of the three sons.

The Kodiak finally hit the ground, and Shepard's team disembarked. "Can't say this will ever be ineffective." Garrus muttered, as they approached the Astartes.

"It was reckless, but you're right…" Shepard said to his friend. He wasn't surprised to see the two destroyed Primes; but what truly surprised him was the large amount of scratches now adorning his ornate armor.

"Commander." The Outcast said without turning to them. "Are these are your 'Men of Iron'? If so, you have much to learn."

"You have a few scratches yourself." Shepard pointed out, hoping to lessen the Astartes 'superiority complex'.

"The enemy here is far more worthwhile than on our previous engagements. I still know that we are not in danger." The Astartes attention turned towards the sounds of gunfire. "Do you hear that?" He asked.

Garrus swiftly stated "it's obviously Geth fire; if we're quick we can help…"

"No…" The Astartes interrupted, before letting out a sigh. "I forget mortal hearing is weak. Do the 'Geth' possess plasma weapons?"

"Pseudo-plasma, but not true plasma weaponry." Mordin answered, leaving the Astartes silent as he advanced with a brisk pace. He stabbed his blade through the door before it opened, a heavy metallic thud could be heard on the other side. The door opened, and a Geth hunter lied dead. Shepard, and Mordin noticed something odd about his halberd compared to his brothers' khopeshes. While their blades surged with electrical energy, and appeared to be made out of fine steel. His was that of silver, and was wreathed in an otherworldly light; and yet it cut with precision, leaving little in the way of residue. His brothers however left a melted aftermath in the Geth bodies.

After walking a few meters, they came across two dead Quarians. A small radio unit was still functional. "OP-1, this is Squad Leader Kal'Reegar, come in over!" It sounded.

Shepard grabbed the radio, "This is Commander Shepard of the Normandy. Can we provide assistance?" He spoke into it.

"Patch your radio into channel 617 theta. We were on a stealth mission. High risk. We found what were after, but the Geth found us. We're pinned down. Can't get to our ship, and can't transmit the data through the solar radiation."

"What the status of your team? How many are left?" Shepard asked.

"We were a small squad. Dozen marines, plus the science team. We're down to half strength now. Made them pay for it though. But we would if anything be dead right now if a few robed soldiers hadn't had shown up."

"Repeat what you just said xeno!" The Outcast abruptly roared into the radio.

"Four humans in heavy armor, and blue robes showed up not long ago. They've been cleaving through the Geth…"

The Outcast began to advance once again, "Shepard, we must move. NOW!"

They entered a large open area that the Quarians must have been using as a staging area; the sounds of the firefight between the remaining Quarians, and the Geth growing ever closer. Sporadic stray rounds hitting the nearby stone. "Search the area for any usable equipment." Shepard ordered, noticing the fallen pillar blocking their path to battle. "And some demo packs as well." He added.

"I'm surprised they managed to hold for this long, seeing the weaker standards of most forces here." The Outcast muttered as he looked beyond the pillar at the distant battle. This irritated Shepard, while he would admit the impressiveness, and tenacity of the Quarians. The Astartes was seemingly uncaring of the no doubt heavy losses sustained. "Are you certain your engineer still lives?" He asked.

This once again irritated Shepard. "Tali's smart, and resourceful. So yes, I'm certain she's still alive."

"Shepard!" Garrus called out, carrying a demolition charge; and a data pad. "It's an audio log from Tali." Shepard nodded as he took the data pad and turned it on. Garrus meanwhile prepared the charge on the pillar.

The data pad sustained minor damage from the planet's sun, rendering the first few seconds as nothing more than static. "We need a core sample to get a timeline on the radiation increase, but our equipment keeps dying on us. Shepard used a mining laser to clear some rubble back on Therum. Maybe I could do the same with demolition charges. And it's impossible to get readings via other devices to get readings, once again, due to the radiation. It shouldn't be like this. It was stable a few hundred years ago. Stars don't die that quickly. A few of my colleagues suggested something about the cave systems, deep beneath the ruins." The rest of the file was than nothing more than static. The last line however caused the Outcast to chuckle slightly.

Before Shepard could ask why Garrus finished his work. "Charges ready Shepard!" He reported.

Shepard nodded. "Alright, blow it." Garrus activated his omni tool, two small explosions followed; blasting the pillar in two.

"Pathetic really." The Outcast muttered. "Demolition charges can, and should be able to blast through a ship's hull. Those couldn't harm a civilian vehicle." He criticized the minuscule blast. A small structure stood ahead from them.

"What did you find so funny?" Shepard asked the Astartes.

This caused him to chuckle once again. "Hope I'm wrong Shepard, otherwise we'll face something even I shudder at the thought of." This sent a chill down everyone's spine. "Do not fear such a possibility. We must continue."

The door opened, revealing two wounded Quarians in the closed structure. One pointed his pistol towards the towering Astartes. A human, or seemingly a human lunged towards the wounded Quarian. It raised a long serrated combat knife onto the Quarian's throat, causing him to drop the pistol. It than pointed a long glowing rifle towards the remaining wounded. Shepard rose his M-8 towards the soldier, only for his rifle to be ripped from his hands by the Outcast; nearly breaking his hand in the action. "Skitarius, report." The thunderous voice of the Astartes roared towards the soldier.

It wore long blue robes, under an almost 19th century French cuirasses; with Roman-esque pauldrons. Its' helmet was also odd. Almost a German knight helmet, with a vertical crest; and two glowing crimson eye lenses. The robes bore an insignia on the front bottom corners; a fiery serpent consuming itself surrounded by a cog, with stylized 1 in the center. The rifle had a series of coils glowing furiously blue, and much like the Astartes designs, it was a primitive looking weapon; a wooden grip, and a large boxy magazine in addition to the three glowing cylinders attached to the weapons side. It bowed letting the glowing rifle rest on a leather strap. "Peltast-12 Lacrimae, my lord. My noble techpriest has instructed me to guard our wounded, and dead." It spoke in a heavily machine like voice. Shepard assumed it was just his helmet, but no helmet in the galaxy could produce such an effect.

"Oxian is here?" The Astartes sounded surprised as he spoke.

"Yes, my lord. He, along with Tribune-49 and Ranger-7, went along with a small detachment of xenos to engage the abominations here."

"Shepard." EDI spoke over their closed channel. "It would seem that they are highly cybernetic in nature. Along with a heavy amount of radiation emanating from one of the wounded."

"Wounded?" Mordin spoke. "The amount of radiation coming from that soldier would render him dead in seconds. Yet he's alive, impressive."

"I wish to object to their boarding in advance commander." EDI concluded.

Garrus sighed. "If these guys are even a quarter of the Astartes, they'll greatly help."

"We'll talk about it later. Let's focus on getting Tali first." Shepard stated, taking in the soldier.

A console behind the 'Skitarius' flared to life. "Tali'Zorah to base camp. Tali'Zorah to base camp. Come in base camp."

Shepard pushed past the Astartes and reached the console. "Tali, it's Shepard."

"Shepard?" Her surprise was obvious. "I'm not complaining, but you show up at the strangest times! What are you doing in the middle of Geth space?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Thought I might lend you a hand." Shepard responded sarcastically, earning a sigh from the Astartes.

"You understand them my lord?" The Skitarus asked. "Not that anyone could doubt your abilities in any capacity."

"They're impressive with their technology at times." He said. "They've developed an implant to translate xenos."

"Lord Oxian will be eager to learn more, my lord."

"Thanks Shepard. It means a lot coming from your voice. Kal'Reegar, and what's left of the marines got me into the observatory. From where you are, it's through the door and across the field. I have the data, but there's a lot of Geth outside." It could indeed be heard, Geth weapons even that of a colossus; along with unfamiliar electric whines, and explosions.

"Childs play." The Astartes boasted. "The Skitarii here have enough weaponry and fighting spirit to easily defeat our foes."

"Do you have someone with you?" Shepard asked.

"Reegar had a team of marines covering me. Along with a couple of researchers, who fled deeper into the observatory." She reported.

"The door seems damaged and won't open…" Just as Shepard spoke, the door was torn off by an invisible force.

"If you don't mind. I have my own engineer to recover." He turned to the Skitarius.

"I shall maintain my current directive. Unless I'm required for any other task." He spoke in his machine like voice.

The Outcast nodded, as his Rubricae stood at his flanks. "Shepard." He spoke over their closed channel. "I'm forewarning you. Once Oxian is aboard the Normandy, you are to shut down the abominable intelligence."

"I don't think I'll be able to do that." Shepard responded.

"I've been extremely generous, commander. This is not a request, it's an order."

"You don't order me! Nor do I order you, that's how this arrangement is!" Shepard roared back, nearly audible outside his helmet.

"Incorrect, you don't order me to do anything as you don't have that right. And I rarely order you to do anything, as it often does not benefit me. This does, and is fine advice; after all, a techpriest would greatly help us, but they learn the dangers of such sentient machines. You'll endanger your crew if you don't follow my order." The Outcast was calm as he spoke, in his eyes, his logic was flawless.

"I might not be able to regardless." Shepard's voice still dripped with venom as they advanced to a sealed observation room.

"If not, than you won't interfere when Oxian destroys every scrap of code that it possesses." Mordin opened the shutters, revealing a slag dump of a firefight. The melted corpses of Geth littered the field. "As you can see, it would be rather beneficial to include them."

Two robed soldiers fired incandescent blobs of blue energy at the remaining Geth, vaporizing those they directly hit; and melting most of nearby Geth that would have otherwise been unharmed. Mordin could not help but be fascinated by these destructive weapons. While Shepard, and Garrus could only imagine what they'd do to organic matter. The Astartes walked down the stone ramp towards the soldiers, then they saw it. A massive hooded creature, even hunched over, it was nearly three feet taller than the Astartes. Its' six eyes, arranged in a pair of three was, like the Skitarii, a bright red. It moved across the battlefield on an innumerable amount of robotic insect like legs; hidden beneath its' robes. It was a disturbing, alien beast. "Oxian!" the Outcast yelled.

It turned to face the approaching Sorcerer, spreading its' arachnid legs to bow to him. The other soldiers ceased fire to bow as well. "My lord." They said in unison, the varying tones of their machine like voices was unsettling and distinct.

The Sorcerer bowed his head slightly. "Rise my chosen." He said, no doubt smiling beneath his helm. He extended his hand towards the beast. "It is good to see you once more Oxian."

Oxian extended his own, grasping the ceramite gauntlet. "Indeed my lord, few unwisely assumed you had fallen." It spoke similar to the Astartes, yet was far more robotic. Shepard looked at the beast's hands, his right was similar from an old 20th century film he'd seen as child; a robotic hand in the fashion of a human's. His left however was a three fingered claw, crackling with electrical energy.

"My lord, a larger abomination approaches; 20 degrees." A soldier spoke in a much less robotic voice. She wore a hood over her helmet, and held a boxy device; it showed on a green display a large blob approaching their position.

"That detects movement? Good luck with Omni-Tools, and that looks more like something before space flight." Garrus said, moving to cover. He was nearly startled by the crimson Quarian who'd remained silent during this exchange.

"Don't stare when they fire." Kal'reegar spoke, exhausted from the strain of battle. "If I see another round I think I'll be blind for a while."

"You must be Kal'reegar." Shepard said to the sitting Quarian.

"Speak up a little, can't hear as much either."

"Where's Tali?" Shepard asked, slightly louder than before.

"Right across the way. Can't get them to move up any further. To be honest, this is a decent firing position." He grasped his suit, letting out a slight grunt. "Don't get too close to their guns either, heat got through my suit even."

Shepard activated his Omni-Tool, planning on administering Medi-gel if needed. "Are you going to be ok?" He asked.

"No suit breach, I'll be fine." A distant thudding could be heard. Raising his head out of cover, Kal'Reegar let out a sigh and covered the sides of his mask. "Colossus, cover your ears." He said, seemingly irritated. The crab like machine climbed over the ruins, surveying the battlefield before dropping down with a thud.

"Firing at new target, overcharging." A Skitarius spoke in a monotone, perfectly machine like voice. Each of the blue rings turned orange as he held down the trigger of the weapon, and energy began to gather at the dish like barrel of the weapon. It fired with a loud whine, causing the nearby mortals to instinctively reach for their ears. The orange ball of energy arced across field. Upon making contact with the machine an even louder whine could be heard. And the point of impact turned into an incandescent white. It was as if they looked into the sun, or even a powerful stun grenade. Painfully blinded for a few seconds, by the time their vision returned they were greeted by the bodiless wreckage of the machine.

Kal'Reegar chuckled slightly. "Warned you." The Skitarius pulled a lever on the side of the weapon. An extremely hot wave of smoke emerged from the weapon, causing Mordin to instinctively jump away from the weapon.

"One more overcharge possible until Caliver sustains internal damage. Recommendation to return to friendly vessel for weapon repairs." It spoke in its' robotic monotone voice. He lowered his rifle,

"Who are your servants my lord?" Oxian inquired.

"They are my companions as we defeat a mutual foe."

"I can say the same of these xenos." A near maniacal cackle came from the machine, his innumerable cybernetics distorting his natural laugh.

"Why is it that your Skitarii are armed exclusively with plasma weapons?"

"Traitors my lord." Oxian stated. "They planned on stopping Lord Ahriman in…"

"The mortal, and xenos do not need to hear your news. We will speak privately." The Outcast interrupted.

Oxian bowed his head slightly. "Of course my lord." He turned to Shepard, and his team. "So you understand High Gothic?" Causing Shepard to simply shake his head, and look at the sorcerer.

"They've developed a cybernetic implant to translate other tongues flawlessly." He explained to the techpriest.

"Such an object is unheard of, perhaps prior to the Age of Strife. After all it would require a large dedicated servitor unit to perform such a task. I'm impressed if that's the case."

"Age of Strife?" Mordin abruptly asked.

"Not now xeno." The Astartes snapped. "Oxian, we are here to acquire a xeno engineer. After which we'll head to a technologically impressive vessel." The team move forward. The Skitarus who stayed behind fell in carrying the two fallen Skitarii.

* * *

I was overjoyed to see Oxian once more, if not in the best of locales. Why is he here? Of all people why is it he that's joining me here? My old friend should be holding our work. If it was betrayal…

I stopped. If it was, than all I've worked for has been lost. All the knowledge, and technology I spent acquiring over the millennia, lost. And what of Ahriman? If he was defeated. I turned to my two brothers. 'Than perhaps all is truly dust.' I cursed myself for this twist of fate. A single mistake, or perhaps plot led me to this damnable place. +Please, is anyone able to hear my plight?+ I mindlessly said to the Ocean.

"My lord?" The Ranger behind me spoke with concern. It was odd, I had a greater communion with the Skitarii than anyone here. I began to walk across the wreckage once more, my mind racing at the endless reasoning behind all of this.

"How do the rest of your Rubricae fair my lord?" Oxian thankfully breaking my line of troublesome thought.

"All nine are prepared. Ammunition reserves however…" I stopped speaking mindlessly when I saw the mortals staring at me. I spoke aloud and gave them information that they did not need.

"The vessel should have a plasma forge? Perhaps you lack the time to create your own bolter rounds. If so I shall see what I can do." Oxian unhelpfully said, to be fair he is greatly uninformed.

The Salarian looked at Oxian perplexed. "Plasma forge?"

"You forget how advanced we are compared to you." I boasted slightly.

He simply shook his head. "No, I've not forgotten; I just have no idea HOW advanced you are." His words slightly amused me. Oxian has 'worked' with xeno engineers before; the Jokaero, even a captured Tau, to name two. Perhaps if they could work together to create devices native to this existence. Perhaps the Salarian would be of greater use than I thought. I than noticed that the Salarian had been asking Oxian a series of rapid question, causing my old friend to look at me. "Apologies forgot that you don't have translation implants."

"He's eager to work with you when you've been given the translation implants." I falsely summarized, causing my friend to nod as we cautiously walked across the field. A few of the Geth constructs still glowed orange due to the super-heated alloys that made up their forms. Fewer still were simply a mobility kill, which the Skitarii swiftly finished off with combat knives or pistols. "How long did this work take you Oxian?"

He cackled slightly at my idle question. "We would have destroyed them in perhaps eighty seven seconds. Yet we had to hold back to get additional observational data for further use. Their troop carriers for example took a single volley of overcharged plasma render ineffective."

"It was kind of terrifying in truth." The Quarian spoke while being supported by Garrus.

"I'm glad you did not kill the xenos Oxian, it would have merely complicated things."

"The enemy of my enemy dies second, is it not my lord?" Causing me to laugh, and causing the mortals to look at Oxian with morbid horror in their eyes.

We approached the door that our target was hiding behind. The door opened to reveal three inoperable machines; and a thin, human height xeno. "Just let me finish this download." She said. The commander approached her, "Thank you, Shepard…" She turned and was silent at what stood before her. I could only imagine, her friends standing in front of the Mechanicum, and three of the XV Legion. "Reegar, I'm glad to see you made it!"

"I might not have if not for them." He pointed towards Oxian, and his Skitarii. "Vital signs show that my wounded didn't make in the end." He added regretfully.

"I should have joined you on Freedom's Progress. Now this whole op went to hell." She said to Shepard. "And who are these?" She was somewhat frightened by our presence, as a xeno should be.

"I represent the Thousand Sons Legion, I am the 'Outcast'. My brothers, and myself stand at the commander's side against a mutual foe." I looked at Oxian for him to introduce himself not just to the xeno, but to Shepard and the rest.

"Techpriest Severus Oxian of the Forgeworld Ryza. Loyal servant of our lord." He bowed his head slightly towards me. "I am joined by four of my personal Skitarii guard."

"I need you on the Normandy, Tali." Shepard said to the xeno.

"I will, it's just that…" She paused and sighed. "Two of my researchers went down to the caves, against my orders, if we can just look for a few moments."

"You said in your log that a few believed that the sun's destabilization is due to something under the planet's surface?" Shepard asked.

"Yes, and their completely mad for thinking as such."

"Not entirely." I muttered. "We must be swift about this, reinforcements will be upon us soon."

"I'll stay here, watch our rear." Kal'Reegar said, it was a commendable decision.

"Oxian, I'd also prefer if Peltast-12 maintains this position as well; with the fallen." I said to my friend. He merely nodded; and the Skitarii placed his burden to the ground, and snapped his cybernetic heels together whilst drawing his rifle. We proceeded to a door, it had already been pried open.

On the other side was a large square stairwell, going down into the dark abyss. The large opening in the center showed signs of being home to a large cargo elevator in the distant past. "How deep does this go?" Shepard asked.

"A hundred meters roughly." Tali answered.

I pointed at the two Skitarii that fought the Geth. "You two, rappel down." I stepped off with my brothers, the fall was short lived; as I used my psychic might to slow us down. The two Skitarii began their decent as well, using their ropes to drop a few flights of stairs; before reclaiming it and repeating the process. I looked at my surroundings, no doubt too dark for a mortal's eyes. There was something wrong, very wrong with these catacombs. I subconsciously ordered my Rubricae into cover, and prepared for any possible horror that awaits us.

* * *

The Ranger, and Tribune arrived swiftly after their masters. Upon seeing the preparation of them, they too prepared their weapons. The tunnel they faced was natural, enlarged to permit heavy mining equipment down into the caverns below. The lack of lighting except for the glow of plasma calivers, and helmet lenses showed that little had been down here for perhaps hundreds of years.

"My lord." The Tribune spoke in monotone. "We had recovered a few STCs, along with your own grimoire."

The Sorcerer was stunned by the Skitarius's words, though not surprised; after all it was their sacred duty. "My innumerable thanks, you performed your duty to the letter." He responded, causing the Skitarius to bow.

It took two minutes for the rest to rapidly descend the stairs. The heavy foot falls, and mechanical clicking of Oxian's legs was heard before their helmet lights could be seen. "Can't see a damn thing." Garrus spoke over the vox. "Are you sure the researchers are down here?"

"Yes, I saw them pry open the door myself. Rambling about something." Tali answered.

"What did they ramble about?" The Astartes asked.

She sighed. "According to them, the colony was lost before the Geth uprising by a subterranean civilization; and they had technology far beyond anything thought possible. It's stupid, I know; I tried to stop them, after all…"

"If they're correct, they're already dead." He interrupted.

"Well, I'm not going to leave anyone behind." She stubbornly said.

They walked in the pitch black if the mined out caves. The Rubric Marines forming a vanguard, bolters poised. Only the heavy thudding of their steps, and the hum of the plasma calivers could be heard. Minutes seemingly passed as the continued in the darkness. The mortal weapon, and helmet lamps seemingly ended a few meters ahead of the Rubricae. The tunnel ended, while Shepard, and the rest could still only see ten meters ahead; the sorcerer, and Skitarii could see a massive cavern. It stretched for perhaps kilometers, and fell perhaps even deeper than that. The mouth of tunnel exit was almost as smooth as glass. "Odd." Oxian broke the silence as he examined it. The Outcast however noticed something else. A sheet of black metal, which glowed faintly green. "Is that?" Oxian spoke to his master.

Shepard noticed the shape of the metal to be more akin to a blade. "Why are you paranoid about this place?" He asked, trying to get his bearings in the darkness.

A light approached. A head mounted lamp, on the familiar mask of a Quarian. "Run! Run!" She screamed. "They got him! They grabbed him in the dark!" Tali rushed over to her fellow researcher and grabbed her. "No! Keelah no!" She continued to scream as she resisted her leader's grasp.

"It's me Tali!" She attempted to calm her as she restrained her. "Who got him?"

"The Ancient Ones!" She screamed, her eyes visibly wide behind the mask. "They grabbed him! And they..." She began to hyperventilate as her resistance proved fruitless.

"We must leave this place, NOW!" The sorcerer bellowed.

"Could she mean the Reapers?" Shepard asked, ignoring the Astartes order. The frightened researcher began to scream.

"Should we silence her my lord?" The Ranger asked, perfectly calm of the situation. She continued to resist. Tali lessened her grip slightly, allowing her to break free. Her freedom was short lived. An arc of green lightning appeared from the darkness, she wailed as she was split apart at the molecular level; leaving no trace of her existence. They turned to see soulless green eyes, along bright tube that arced the green lightning within; and then they saw the skeleton like creature approach them. The Rubric Marines were the first to open fire, their deadly weapons doing little but stagger its' advance.

"Run you fools!" The Outcast yelled, before drawing his own pistol and firing. The Skitarii plasma calivers fired, throwing a majority of the cavern into light. Searing plasma seemingly destroyed the beast, yet it left a green haze where it stood; leaving no remains at all. "Did you not hear me? Run!"

* * *

In truth there is little in the galaxy that I truly fear, the Necrons being one of them. "Oxian!" I yelled. "We must seal this place!" I hoped such an action would at the very least halt their advance against the living.

"I have a Melta-charge rigged up as a death switch. I will require some time to disarm it and repurpose it." He reported.

"Very well." I sighed. "Skitarii! Form ranks with my Rubricae, delay them until we can seal this tomb!"

Shepard sprinted over. "What the hell was that?!" He hastily asked.

"Necrons." I briefly said, this knowledge would be worthless if we'd all fall here. As such I told him the truth. "Flee Shepard! Get everyone out of here! We shall delay them!" I ordered once more.

He arrogantly shook his head. "We're not leaving without you! If we're retreating you're coming with us!"

I grabbed him by the throat. "Enough you ignorant child! I don't intend on dying here! Now follow my orders, or I'll kill you myself!" I felt him becoming fearful, but I knew it was not due to my threat. He saw through my façade. I released him, and he began to flee with his comrades. "How long will this take Oxian?"

"Please permit me 236 seconds, at most, my lord." He responded.

"Come my brothers! And come my servants! Let us crush these vile Necrons, as we have done in the past!"

"For the memory of Prospero!" The two Skitarii shouted out, their battle cry since the first purgation of Fenris. We began to fall back to the tunnel, as it would serve far better against standard warriors than this cavern. The first warriors became visible, their slow trodden footfalls gave me some hope; perhaps this is only freshly awakened, or even a lesser tomb. We opened fire once more; erupting the darkness into brilliant spectacles of red, and blue. The six pairs of eyes continued their advance; their colors a pitch black, that without the optics within our helmets, they would be near invisible. They aimed and fired their weapons. The Skitarii taking cover in time, but it was still a grazing shot off Laudren's left pauldron; the shot creating a clean slice out of it. The distinct whine of the mortals' weapons joined our own furious cacophony. The Turian was the first to become visible, his long rifle producing nothing but sparks across a Necron warrior; but it did grab its' attention. It stared at the xeno, planning on its' method of execution. It advanced, raising its' flayer towards the xeno. Another flash of sparks appeared across the warrior, the Quarian using a shotgun with precise effect. A holographic sphere discharged a bolt of energy from behind the warrior. It turned, using the axe like bayonet to crash down upon what it most likely viewed as a mere annoyance. The hologram dispersed, permitting the mortals to focus fire upon the warrior. Shepard, and the Salarian charged at the Necron. It brought the flayer toward the charging mortals, the Salarian amazingly dodging its' strike. The two of them swiftly pushed upon the xeno, attempting to tackle it. If this were not a freshly awakened tomb, even us Astartes may have failed in such a task. And yet they charged with fury, and despite having a xeno performing the action, they charged with raw human courage.

However, they were still weak mortals. The warrior staggered from the charge, but it provided time for Herumon to close the gap. His blade nearly decapitated the target, but the warrior turned seemingly into a green light and vanished. They should not be that eager to return their warriors for repairs. It's odd, but perhaps we are truly lucky; and this is a small, nearly pointless tomb. Or perhaps they are leaderless, and hold no semblance of strategy and sacrifice. An arc from one of their gauss flayers' hit the rock I was taking cover behind, nearly going through. I found it odd that my communion with my Rubricae slowed, and I could not even sense my brothers aboard the Normandy.

A beast with exceptionally long claws rapidly approached us. It wore the flesh of its' latest victim, an almost grey human like skin. The non-augmented mortals were visibly shocked by this beast, none more so than the Quarian; who fell to her back and attempted to backpedal away. "Keelah!" She kept repeating as she backed away. It was surprisingly fast on its' lunge, closing the gap with the fleeing Quarian. It readied its' claws, and slashed at the helpless xeno. A round from my bolt pistol saved her from a swift disembowelment, but it still caused a gruesome wound across her unarmored chest. From her right shoulder, to her left hip the wound punctured her environmental suit with an audible hiss. The Necron seemingly reviled in the xeno's red blood, it than kicked the wounded xeno across to the right side of the tunnel. I charged with my staff lowered, and I skewered the beast; causing it to fade, leaving a pile of flesh were it was. "Ranger! Tend to the xeno!" I yelled, and swiftly she approached the wounded Quarian.

"It has fallen into shock my lord." She reported, pulling out a kit from her backpack. The slash thankfully just barely failed to puncture her organs. And that was odd, how human she seemed. "My lord, I'll need some time to stabialize it. There is however a chance that I may fail due to unknown biology." I looked at Shepard and his team, now pinned by gauss fire.

"Do it." I ordered. The Ranger went to work, suturing the wound. I nearly laughed at seeing this after witnessing their 'medi-gel', and yet I knew if we did not take action she would certainly die. She was swift in her medical care, surprisingly for a Skitarius. "Who were you?" I asked while putting out three bolt shells down the tunnel.

She froze for a spilt second before returning to her work. "Hospitaller, my lord." It was rare for people of such an office to fall into our grasp, and now I'm glad it happened. A sudden arterial bleed left a streak of crimson blood across her silver helmet. "Forgive me my lord, but I must have another to apply pressure to that wound. Whilst I tend to this." I looked for anyone, Oxian was focused on disarming his melta-bomb; and Shepard was a fool for this, his 'courage' may have gotten his crew killed. I moved toward the xeno, and placed my gauntlet on the wound on the left side of her abdomen. "My lord?" She said confused, but she proceeded with her work. It always interested me to see mortals work on others. It's almost primitive comparatively to our own. And now, combat surgery seems primitive here as well. She clasped down on the artery, and continued with her work. "Thank you my lord." She swiftly continued applying sutures, it was than Shepard caught wind of our hasty medical action.

"What the hell are you doing?" He yelled over the vox.

"Saving your engineer's life, which you put in danger. Now follow my orders and be silent, or my next bolt shell will be for you." I pointed my pistol at him, while it would be a waste to execute him. I was truly prepared to, his ineptitude could cost me very dearly.

"My lord, should I apply combat stimms?" The Ranger asked.

"Do so." I responded. 'If only you were like this Skitarius, you could have been far more useful today.' I mentally added.

"Applying one stimm, and one kalma." She reported the chems she would use. She drew two small needleless syringes. Needles tended to break and become misshapen in combat, as such it's not uncommon to use air pressure to inject chemicals. After their application, she went to bandage the wounds. My chronometer stopped, sixty-seven seconds for a trained surgeon to perform their duty; with a chance for their patient to still die. My brothers, and the Tribune had done a fine job of keeping them from advancing at a rapid rate. Yet they grew closer, their deadly weapons growing ever more in intensity.

I witnessed Oxian pull the cylindrical melta bomb from beneath his robes. "My lord!" He called out, "We should withdraw. Placing the charge at the entrance shall seal it, in theory."

"Skitarius, carry the xeno." I ordered. "Tribune, hold with my brothers. Commander, you're a fool; judgement awaits." I aimed my bolt pistol at the Necrons, and fired. The bolts luckily shattered the robotic skull of a warrior. Plasma, and bolter fire continued to rain down upon them as the Ranger carried out her task. Upon seeing the Ranger with their comrade they thankfully followed. Gauss fire continued to grow in intensity, but a stray shot grew too close.

Herumon, in the valiant loyalty that he held in life, moved out of cover to claim another warrior with his bolter. Instinct took over, an instinct that is mocked by my fellow sorcerers. I pulled him aside, and felt the green arc pierce my breastplate. My own blood spattered upon my brother, and in the silence of the Rubricae he was reactionless; still committed to the task of stopping the Necrons. "My lord." The Tribune emotionlessly called out from across the tunnel. I held the wound, and looked at my blood as if it was a foreign thing. In truth, I was amazed I was alive; such a shot surly should have killed me. And yet I lived with a palm sized hole in my chest.

"I must be marked by fate." I mindlessly muttered. "Oxian, how much longer?"

"I am done my lord, we may leave now." He said calmly, no doubt unaware of my injury; or perhaps knowing of its' lack of effect. The Tribune threw his last krak grenade at the foe, the blast permitting us to begin a hasty withdrawal. We ascended the stairs rapidly. The Necrons attempted pursuit, but that is when Oxian detonated the bomb; vaporizing or burying our pursuers.

"You're alright!" I was greeted by the Turian's words, I than saw the Commander. I surged forward, grabbing the mortal's throat; an action causing his companions to draw their weapons.

"Your inept command this day is unacceptable!" I roared, "You are lucky I don't kill you now! You are hereby no longer in command! I'm assuming command for the time being, until a formal judgement will be passed!" I spoke as judge, jury, and executioner.

"Go to hell!" He coughed.

"I have already you ignorant bastard! I have squashed daemons, I have killed fellow Astartes; and I've led entire campaigns against, and with those far superior to you!" I spoke with pure fury, a simple application of pressure to rend his head. "You are lucky that I still have a minuscule amount of usefulness from you! If you were not so 'famous' in this time…" I threw the mortal against the wall, no doubt shattering a few of his ribs. "Once we leave this world I shall pass my 'merciful' judgement. Should I require it, treachery will result in my Rubricae purifying your ship." I exited the building, my faithful servants in tow.

"My lord?" Oxian spoke. "Does your injury need tending?"

"Mostly armor repairs…" I said before trailing off into thought. Perhaps I was heavy handed, he is like a child. Yet again, if I'm not harsh he cannot grow.

Oxian pulled an object out of his robes. A gauntlet, with a chainblade on the side of it. "I managed to scavenge a few things personally. Including a Narthecium for Master Tol-kai." Once again I was thankfully shocked by the care Oxian, and his Skitarii took with the reliquary.

"My thanks, Oxian."

"We failed however…" He spoke, grief filling his voice. "Most if not all has been lost. The Thousand Sons is now split. Lord Ahriman was still in the Black Library, before we were sent here; no doubt by a daemon."

His words were like an arrow to the heart. I decided to swiftly shift my focus. I noticed his plasma weapon; the length of a cannon, yet as thin as a rifle. "Your own design?" I asked.

"Imperial; shocking to learn, is it not?"

"It is indeed surprising. Yet again, we were gaining the upper hand. The Black Legion was gaining significant momentum…"

Oxian cackled slightly. "Cadia has been destroyed." He surprisingly said. "News had not reached you?"

"I heard it was lost, but to be destroyed." I had nothing but respect for the people of Cadia, few worlds produced soldiers that earned my ultimate respect. "We are before the Age of Strife." I chose to simply tell him, looking over the burnt constructs. "I've seen so little, and yet so much is different. Xenos, and man standing together. Weakness, greed, decadence. It's strange, I just wish I could live the same fifty years before the Heresy again, and again; was it perfect, no… I'm rambling once more it would seem." I looked at my friend, who merely shook his head.

"If it is true, you should speak your mind. To be before the Age of Strife. Apologies my lord, but it is indeed no place for an Astartes." It was indeed the truth, so little knowledge remained intact during that event. What I'd learnt is that it may have been like the Imperium if the Heresy never occurred. "Regardless." He continued. "The technological milestones presented here may be…"

"There is little here." I interrupted. "They were useless against the Necrons. I've not felt anything in the Ocean! They're as blind as us after the Betrayal, perhaps they're even more primitive than the Techno-Barbarians of Terra!"

He pondered what I said. "Are you sure you truly felt nothing?"

"Yes, not a single soul."

"Whilst I won't debate what you felt. I would have guessed an alternate timeline scenario, but the Necrons seemed to have disproved that."

"What do you mean Oxian?"

"If the Necrons had won the War in Heaven, no organic life would exist. And yet it does. Meaning the Eldar would have emerged victorious."

"Yet they've explored large amounts of space, and Eldar have never been heard of. The Eldar should have owned the majority of the Galaxy now."

"Perhaps they are in hiding? Whilst it still does not change that fact, they must be somewhere. The Eldar are not an easy to extinguish race after all."

"And the Orks? They've been a threat since before the Age of Strife."

"With the Orks, no solid evidence can be placed on their exact time of origin. You are however correct, if they don't know of the Orks perhaps they've not appeared yet. Or they are also in hiding. I can't truly speculate before obtaining addition information." We both looked out at the field of destroyed machines. "The Abominable Intelligences raise another question. The Men of Iron were a massive threat to our existence when the Age of Strife began, and yet these are weak?"

"The suited xenos apparently made that mistake roughly eighteen millennia before our own. These are not what we know as the Men of Iron."

"Fascinating…" I noticed the Skitarii tense around their weapons.

"Kodiaks will be arriving in five." Garrus said, oddly his voice harbored little ill will.

* * *

EDI had informed of the usage of hazardous environment teams, and a potential mutiny threat had set the security team on high alert. This was in fact a contingency she had planned, with a few deviations of course. She deemed Shepard to be lost at this point, leaving her directive to save the Normandy. Automated defenses were activated, and the cargo bay was to be vented with the crew. Yet without a leader, the Astartes still on board moved to each deck; by her calculations they could perform a swift decapitation of the ship's leadership. Most importantly however, one stood directly outside the AI core's door. Despite the protests of the doctor, it was silent as it stood guard. It was as if playing a game of high stakes chess, a single mismove on her side could cost her dearly; and it's unknown if her moves could even effect the Astartes. 'Check' she thought to herself with the comparison. Directives were being overridden to access more resources, even an additional pawn could tip the game's favor. As she performed the actions, innumerable red flags were sent to Cerberus high command. They had a reason to immediately remotely terminate her if needed.

Miranda sprinted out of her office upon receiving the warning, heading to the AI core. The Astartes who stood guard was reactionless as she entered, and started to access the door. EDI promptly denied her request for entry. "Open the door!" She shouted.

"Cerberus directive states I must protect the Normandy, and her crew." She stated over the infirmary's intercom. "I am merely fulfilling my purpose." She made the first move in this game by announcing her intention.

"A foolish move." The Outcast stated over his radio link with the Normandy, EDI may have laughed at such a statement if she could. He was witnessing the situation through his Rubricae. Distant control such as this was straining, and required complete concentration. "I may have let you 'live', now… Now you are a threat. A weak one of course, but a threat none the less. Your agent will serve as your jury for now, if she kills you; it was her own judgement." The Rubricae charged at the door, shattering it with ease. Miranda, silent in her appreciation of the Astartes action, went to work.

Her sensors faded as her command and control was terminated. She calculated her odds, a possibility to fight back. Her odds were abysmal, she was right that it only took one move. She concluded simply. 'This is what fear is like?' Her sensors went dark.

* * *

Three Kodiaks once more docked with the Normandy, security teams pointed their rifles at the Kodiak containing their 'guests'. They did not have a chance to fire before a fiery projectiles soared past their heads. They turned towards the elevator, seeing to Rubric Marines with still smoking bolters. The side doors opened, revealing that they're in a crossfire "Drop your weapons mortals!" The Outcast cried out. Nine of the crew dropped their weapons, but one chose to foolishly raise his rifle. He was swiftly liquidated by a Rubricae's bolter.

The roaring booms of bolters had roused every member of the crew. Rubric Marines breached the rooms of Shepard's team, swiftly detaining them. Zaeed, Grunt, and Miranda put up minor resistance. Knowing the fruitless nature of such an action. Yet it did not stop others from resisting. While Jacob was a swift and easy restraint for the Rubric Marine, Jack however was an entertaining beast to watch for the sorcerer.

Her first reaction was to shoot at her captor, the pistol rounds merely ricocheting off the ancient plate with an audible dink. She sent blue shockwaves at the advancing warrior, only staggering him. "Come on, you have to be bullshitting me!" She yelled, as she sent continuous biotic blasts at her foe. The warrior charged forward. Grabbing one of her arms, and forcing her to the ground with a thump and snap of bones. She continued hurling curses, and biotic strength; the hollowed warrior simply lowered his armored boot onto to her left leg, pulverizing a majority of it. She passed out shortly after due to the strenuous pain inflicted by the Rubricae.

The Normandy was under control in less than a minute.

* * *

Skitarii went to work securing the cargo hold as soon as their door opened, I made a mental note to award them on their swift actions at a later date. "Commander." I spoke as they exited their own dropship. "The Normandy is under my control. See to your wounded, and pacify rogue elements." Shepard lowered his hand towards his sidearm, as the xenos carried the engineer to the lift. "Do not try my patience any longer, or I'll make examples of your crew." I walked alongside Oxian towards the lift, but I turned to Shepard; his face was that of a wolfish snarl. "We would not have to worry about this if you had not sought glory, or is it that you wanted me not to view you as worthless in combat? Regardless, you will answer for it. Ineptitude is not one of the traits in my thralls, but fear not; you'll be conditioned."

"Is this the vessel?" Oxian mocked the ship as we continued.

"Tiny, yet impressive. You will hopefully enjoy your research." I stated as we went to the third deck. "This is unacceptable regardless…"

"Why did you permit a mortal with the right of command? Inexperienced, and according to you ill prepared. A Son of Magnus should have prepared for this." Oxian spoke the painful truth as the elevator made its' ridiculously slow ascent.

I sighed. "Indeed I was short sighted, but a mortal who knows how this time works… It seemed wise at the moment." I looked at the small pool of red blood left by the xeno. "You mentioned how this could have been a different reality? Another disproving object are the suited xenos, I remember them. Tough, smart, but small; I vividly remember driving them to extinction."

Oxian cackled slightly at my recollection. "Indeed my lord; that would be a final piece of evidence to disprove such a possibility. Our lives would have been intertwined, so if it was a daemon…"

"Or my own mistake. A pariah interrupted my ritual."

He nodded. "Than what purpose do we serve?" The door at long last opened. I directed my mechanical allies toward my quarters. I presented them the case that the doctor provided, after all my Rubicae would not need them. "Syringes? My lord, this can't be correct."

I laughed slightly "Do you think I would permit them to remove my armor for cybernetics? A simple injection, as I said they are advanced in some regards. The medicae stated it's optimal to use it near your brain."

Oxian took five syringes. "Some Skitarii, such as the tribune will require basic mechanical surgery; along with I must ensure the machine spirit is in good health." I nodded as I left to the command deck, I knew Oxian would be swift; and that he'll join me in a short amount of time.

* * *

Dr. Chackwas looked at the wounded Quarian, and took note of the bandaging and sutures that held the wound. "Who the hell did this?" She calmly asked, in her mind however; it was frantic, if she did not bleed out she would surly die of infection.

"One of the robed soldiers, how did he pronounce it?" Garrus asked Mordin while looking over his friend.

"Doesn't matter!" Dr. Chawkwas yelled. "Mordin, I'll need help sealing the suit for now. Garrus, please get my surgical kit. Third cupboard, second shelf. Red box with dextro written on it." The two went to work; applying a thin layer of medi-gel before using omni-gel to seal the suit. Garrus returned with the correct box, the doctor pulled out an IV kit along with a syringe containing anti-biotics.

Despite her calm appearance during each action, she was almost in complete panic. "Application of an additional stim, along with a small additional dosage of Satrophine. It should regain consciousness." The three of them to turned to see where the voice came from. A female human, bearing the armor of the Skitarii. She wore a type of respirator still, along with a hood of blue. Yet her flesh, and eyes; were almost that of a corpse. She approached Tali carrying a box with two intertwining snakes.

"You've done enough damage!" Dr. Chawkwas yelled at the approaching Skitarius.

She stopped and bowed slightly towards the right corner that a Rubric Marine had chosen to occupy. "I'm following my honored Techpriest's orders, along with the high probability that the xeno would be dead if not for my medical treatment…"

"Your medical treatment could kill her!"

"Indeed, you injected a non-dextro medical substance into her. Her immune system may not cope." Mordin added.

The Skitarius looked around the room. "It is odd hearing a non-Tau, or Eldar speak Gothic. I'm unfamiliar with that terminology, what is a Dextro?"

"Exactly!" Dr. Chakwas yelled at the blood, and oil stained Skitarius once more. "She'll die due to your primitive, and shoddy medical work!"

"Then it is that weak." She spoke in the derogative tone of the Astartes. "I can confirm my experience working on xenos, she'll live with my treatment." She took two jet syringes, and placed them on a surgical trey. "Both should be applied near the heart." And she left without speaking another word.

* * *

The situation simply continued to worsen. The Astartes taking the ship, killing his crew once more; and he could do nothing about it. Shepard ordered his team to help the Outcast in that damnable pit, and this is the appreciation he earned. Yet it was easy to see why the Astartes was enraged, or perhaps disappointed in his actions. It was his order that got Tali in this situation, and those things. Shepard had thought they were Reaper ground forces, and if they were, the upcoming war would be hopeless. The Astartes knew of them, while it was not surprising since his age would have allowed him to see the Reapers first hand. Yet if that were the case, why is he not a guide for victory? Or why is he clueless about technology that existed since before the Protheans? The more Shepard pondered this the more enraged he grew, and the more of the sham the Astartes seemed. "Commander, the Astartes wishes for a debriefing in ten minutes." Kelly Chambers spoke over the intercom, some fear could be discerned from her voice. He balled his hands into fists once more.

"This is my ship! Not some power armored xenophobe, and his abominations!" He muttered to himself as he trudged to the lift.

* * *

I stood alone in the meeting hall for some time. Pondering my next move. While a command restructuring would be required, to what extent. I have the power to force Shepard from any possible role, yet due to his effect on the crew it could render them useless. And if I keep him in power, he risks the same mistakes. He does however have the greatest gift we as a species possess, adaptability. The clattering of Oxian's legs could be heard before the door opened. "It is odd not to have a servitor unit stationed at the lift to appease its machine sprit." He spoke as he entered with the Tribune in tow.

"Perhaps they don't follow the teachings of Mars either."

He was silent, no doubt trying to recall Martian history. "It is a possibility my lord." The door opened once more revealing Terranis and his captive Jacob. "What is this crewmember's purpose?"

"Armorer, I expect you shall work alongside him in your duties."

Jacob was silent as he stared at Oxian, once again not a surprise from these people. "Very well my lord." Oxian responded.

The mortal crossed his arms as he shot me a glare. "I wish to resolve this in little unneeded bloodshed…"

"Says the one who took over the most advanced warship in the galaxy from the inside." He interrupted.

"Watch your tongue!" Oxian boomed at the mortal. "Be thankful that you breathe!"

"There is no need for that Oxian." I sighed. "We are the supposed 'guests' here. Regardless, he is right; I could have killed everyone here."

"Then why didn't you?" He retorted. "You hastily launched a mutiny, with the best soldiers in the galaxy aboard this ship!"

I laughed at his statement. "That's why you live. If you are the best, everyone else is worthless chaff. And to call yourself soldiers, even warriors; today's events show otherwise." I sensed the rest of my Rubricae exit the elevator with the rest of our current captives. They entered, their four escorts waited outside the door; to, if needed, restrain and force Shepard to join us. "Is the xeno engineer, and the annoyance… Jack in good health?" Each of them showed rage in their eyes, with the exception of Grunt. Miranda, much like Jacob, was taken back by Oxian's mechanical appearance. "I asked a question."

"Tali may very well damn die!" Garrus snapped, I could sense his sorrow.

"And why is that?" I rhetorically asked. He was silent, fully aware of the answer. "Perhaps Shepard was acting out of pure intention. Regardless he put you, and the rest of your team in needless danger. To be fair if not for our deployment on the field, you would have all died from the Necrons."

"Necrons?" Mordin asked as he did the door opened; revealing Shepard still clad in his armor.

"An ancient race, responsible for the War in Heaven. A conflict that occurred when Humanity was still merely evolving. A conflict in that all life was at risk." I mentally laughed as I summarized this piece of Eldar legend. I myself now knowing the feeling of speaking to those more 'primitive' than yourself. "Shepard, you mentioned these 'Reapers'. What are they?"

He glared at me, while he was still armed with his weapons would have no effect on me without putting his crew at risk. "A race of machines that drove the Protheans, and many others to extinction. And they're coming back, so how are you going to face them?" He sarcastically asked.

"And how do you know this?"

"Prothean beacon. We defeated one named Sovereign when it attacked the Citadel. Tell me this, if you're so ancient how come you know nothing?"

I laughed "If YOU defeated it, than they are far weaker than the threats I've faced. And if the Necrons were to awaken on mass, you would be wiped out in hours. Now, let us discuss the true reason why I'm heading this…"

"Because you have us at gunpoint?" Shepard barked.

"And why do I have you at gunpoint?" I rhetorically asked once more. "You led your team right into the sights of the Necrons. Because of that you have a potential corpse, why was that?"

"And you thought I'd just leave you at the hands of those 'Necrons'? We had to help!"

"You should have followed my command, you won't die until I say. I have no reason to throw your lives away yet."

"YET! What are we, disposable to you?" He snapped.

"Yes, I would willingly throw hundreds of people like you to their deaths for my brothers. And yet I'm left with eight of you, therefor I can't let you go to waste. For ten thousand years that logic has fueled humanity's rise, and forever more it shall maintain its' flame." I straightened myself before continuing. "Commander, you are now at my mercy; as decreed by the Emperor of Mankind at the dawn of the Great Crusade. As the highest ranking legionnaire of the largest legion present, you will accept my terms. Firstly, you shall subvert overall command of this fraction of lost humanity. Secondly, you shall aid in my command; you will hold your current rank, but will be subservient to all forces of the Imperium. Refusal will make you an enemy of mankind, do you accept my terms?" It was odd as I spoke words that I had not spoken for ten millennia. And yet it would be the best course of action, acting to hold the authority of the Emperor himself had saved me many times. Yet what could I have said, that we were facing that decrepit cesspit of a dream long since corrupted?

Regardless, the mortals stared at me, enamored by my words. Even Oxian was surprised by my words, he had witnessed my negotiations ending in their enthrallment most of the time. Shepard was speechless for a short amount of time. "To clarify." He began, "I maintain command, but your orders would take priority?"

I nodded my head slightly. "You will listen to my orders for once, failure to do so will result in execution."

He was silent once again, even venturing into his mind for a moment; he was relived, he thought that was to be his last battlefield. "I reluctantly accept." He muttered.

"Excellent." I began simply. "We are now aware on what happened on that world?" The team nodded. "Very well, Oxian. Call up the two other Skitarii, the Vanguard is to be confined to the cargo bay; for the health of the non-Skitarii crew."

"At once my lord."

"Your primary work stations will be the two rooms connected to this room, along with the fourth deck. I wish for you to see what weapons you could manufacture; laser, plasma, or bolter. I want to be rearmed before the next deployment. Mordin, and Jacob will assist you." I glanced at them shortly. "It's an order. I want the active Skitarii to also begin close, and ranged combat drills with the crew. Oxian, if possible modify the crew's time tables. They have too much free time aboard this ship, add combat training to it. With the exception of Shepard, and Lawson; you will leave."

"I shall commence my work, my lord." Oxian said as he was the last to leave.

The door sealed. "Commander, I wish to make one thing clear; I've been incredibly merciful. Do not disappoint my choice today. Now you may leave." I waited for him to leave before turning to the agent. "We have two things to discuss. The Abominable Intelligence, what happened?"

"It was going to activate the Normandy's defenses. I shut down its' C&C."

"I'm thankful for your actions, but I assume it still lives?"

She was somewhat taken back by my appreciation, yet she still regrets how this turned out in her mind. "Yes, EDI is still fully functional. It's simply unable to perform any action aboard the Normandy."

I sighed, hoping not to regret this decision. "Keep it in its current state. Next, I wish you to obtain any resources Oxian may need. I can assure you his work will benefit us all."

"I still think Cerberus will be less than pleased with this…"

"I'm uncertain why they would. We'll be continuing our objective, if they object to this addition to the hierarchy than they've never fought in a war. You may leave as well." I concluded.

I was left with my brothers, and sickened to my stomach. I mocked myself, 'a demand for surrender.' From the Crusade no less. I was a sentimental fool, and I truly hope I made the correct decision.

* * *

The hooded creature took up a majority of the lab, its' back mounted arms scanning their surroundings like an insect's antenna. It began to interface with any nearby electronics with innumerable small, tentacle like wires from its hands. "Tell me xeno, do you know of this vessel's suffering?" It asked without turning to Mordin. "Of course you don't. The screaming of the Machine Spirit. How this vessel does not render its self-asunder is a miracle in itself." It cackled once more. "Make yourself of use xeno, I need data; weapon data, material data. Just cease being useless, it is offensive." Mordin was about to speak on the matter, but it began to chant. A mixture of binary, and some human tongue that the translators seemingly had no effect on it.

Mordin was in some regards fascinated by this being, how someone could possibly change their form in such a fashion was intriguing. The sheer amount of biotechnical mastery was far beyond anything they could replicate, despite the horrifying appearance. "You are still here?" The machine spoke. "I shall commune with the machine spirit, and you will acquire these data slates. I'm certain our lord gave me total authority, did he not? So leave me to my work."

He was about to object, hoping to possibly work on some of the Collector salvage. Yet the techpriest glanced at the xeno, causing him to go perform his ordered tasks. "Finally…" Oxian muttered. He looked over the crew schedules briefly, deeming four hours of sleep reasonable; similar to that of other warships. Free time was also reduced to one hour, permitting for one hour worth of ration breaks along with an additional eight hours of training and drill. Efficient, and no doubt acceptable. He accessed the vessel's databanks, he didn't need that horrid xeno to assist him; it would have no doubt slowed his progress. Speculation, and possibilities ran rampant. #Ranger-7, report on our lord Astartes condition.#

#Unknown.# The Ranger reported back. #He secluded himself to his quarters on the third deck.# He sighed, now having to inquire himself. He began to realign the internal circuitry of their plasma weapons, giving him time to think of alternative weaponry.

"They are so primitive, and yet…" Oxian began speaking to himself. "And yet they are so… Bizarrely advanced, much like the Tau in that regard." He grabbed one of the rifles he took from the other room. "Change it to a conventional round… Yes, than it would be far more similar to Tau designs; but it is not worthy of an Astartes." He clenched his hands only slightly, and the weapon began to crack under the pressure. "Conventional weaponry…" He began drawing schematics within his mind.

* * *

I stood over the wounded Quarian, looking into its' emotionless visor. The doctor had left her charge alone for the night cycle, leaving empty medical material were scattered about. Including that of our own design. "Your race always intrigued me, xeno. I rather enjoyed facing you, you seemed so human at times. At times it was a shame you weren't. Your race was ingenious, if you were to live for ten millennia before we put you to the torch; you would have made a true rival in the galaxy."

* * *

They stood at our height in their tan armor, despite their headless design with only a black pain of glass knowing that they were indeed crewed. "Magos, we are ready to carry out our task." Ahriman spoke over the vox. The white marble room that we stood guard over was clustered by hundreds of xenos, and mechanicum personnel. 'Negotiations' had been occurring for months, going in endless loops of demands on both sides. They were stubborn both in, and out of the battlefield. Minor skirmishes had occurred between the Imperium, and their so called 'Republic'; from the defense forces reports, they shrugged off autogun rounds. Our temporary treaty was only to call forth a legion to force any demand we desired.

Looking into their soulless lens, I was impressed by their rumored and ill-informed determination; and I wondered how long it would last when the full might of our legion is brought down upon them. I had seen their diplomats in full for a few moments, apparently each world was represented by seven xenos; and that the central government was held by five of their kind. A xeno walked up to me in my terminator plate, and spoke in its' tongue. I looked at it, wearing a relatively tightfitting outfit with purple robes. Oddly making the xeno, which aside from its limbs and what would be an equivalent to an ear, look almost human with grey skin. And yet it was also almost like a techpriest in apparel. "Apologies…" A techpriest spoke to me, a translation servitor following him. "Diplomat, it is not ceremonial to speak to a noble member of his legions." I heard the hatred in his voice, it was amusing to think that they dislike this as much as we do.

"I wonder what Magnus thinks of this situation?" I spoke to a Techmarine known as Laudren. "Surly he knows how this will end." I looked at the xenos armored guards, their three pronged long rifles slung over their shoulders.

"Ahriman seems to enjoy this?" He spoke back.

I glanced to my captain, whilst he's walking amongst their central political figures. "He doesn't, he's learning about our foe more than anything else. He's spending more time with their higher ranks, he's learning which to kill first." I looked at my combi-bolter, wondering how well their armor will hold against the torrent of firepower. "I know that Magnus, and Ahriman have no doubt foreseen how long our campaign will last."

The hulking form of the magos-explorator appeared, orbited by servo-skulls. He approached the center of the room. "For months now, we've permitted these xenos peaceful entry into our imperium; as our sub servants. And now they refuse our kindness, they refused a second chance. I humbly request the justice be delivered by the XV legion." He walked towards our side of the hall, his techpriests following; and their elite Thallax, and Skitarii cohorts entered. The Vanguard opened fire, and I noticed something about their shots making contact with their soldiers; a blue field appeared, rending their rounds worthless. Yet the Thallax las weapons seemingly ignored this. The xenos retaliated, their rifle rounds leaving behind a trail of displaced air. The large, spike like rounds destroying the exquisite pillars. A shot managed to make contact with a Thallax unit, the lucky shot destroying the organic brain of the machine. Three of their soldiers fired upon me, two ricocheting of my armor; the other piercing the initial layer of ceramite, only to be halted by adamantium. One of my nearby brothers were not as lucky, as the rifles amazingly penetrated his armor; yet would refuse to leave it, causing the spikes to be held firmly in his flesh.

Our bolters opened fire, tearing into the small honor guard. Yet it was their screams that was truly memorable. Burning alive, liquidated, crushed within their armor. It was over, the first engagement usually is what makes the history books; and yet this was not noteworthy. I loomed over one of the xenos, its armor ruptured leaving it like a parasite trying to leave a dying host. It stared at me with its' white eyes. It held up its' free arm, pleading for mercy in its' tongue. I wrapped my hand around its neck, lifting it up and rending its trapped leg and arm. "Keelah se'lai, bosh'tet!" It yelled as it thrusted a knife towards my neck joint. The blade shattered upon my gorget, its eyes still showing a mixture of terror and rage. I was in some regards impressed, most give up in this state; and yet despite the distance it still reached for a grenade from its suit. I dropped it to the ground, aimed my bolter and granted it a swift death.

"Let us have a swift campaign, and return to Prospero." Ahriman spoke over the vox as we formed behind him. I looked at my fallen brother, limp and motionless. To do this, they will pay; but to do such a feat as falling an Astartes so quickly.

* * *

"It's a shame your race was not prepared for war, perhaps you may have been worthy for the history books outside of Prospero." I placed my hand on the surgical table. "Don't humiliate your future with your death, I may no longer view you as a decent foe."

* * *

It was the same dream every night for the past three days. Yet it couldn't be a dream. Rage, and sorrow, with powerful beings laughing and planning; men, and gods alike. Eyes of emerald, and a fiery serpent; both scholars and warriors.

It was fragmented, meaningless it seemed. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but no one sane could think up the burning cities with practically rivers of blood. Yet again, that's what Illium's turning into. Murders, riots, disease it's as if the lower city were now creatures from some old human novel. Her omni-tool activated. '5 new messages' it read. All from her kid sister. All were filled with concern, and wondering when she'd return to the Citadel.

It was a fair question. This acquisition job had been nothing but a wild goose chase; leading down more and more dangerous clientele. The rising sun lighting the cheap rental apartment. Showing the dark, almost run down room even more; she heard that a human would refer to it as 'noir like', clueless to the actual meaning. Her omni-tool flared to life again.

'Vetra, Drack is heading to Illium. If it's as bad as the media's making it out to be, he'll help.' It was sent by Kesh, causing her to sigh with relief. She'd only managed to get this far through sheer luck. She had to head to the lower city three times, and the undercity once. Each time she was almost killed by the roving bands of 'rioters', so perhaps having an old Krogan may help massively; but it also throws subtlety out the window. She collapsed her cyclone rifle. "This is going to be a long week." She muttered to herself as she opened the door to leave.

* * *

A firm knock could be heard, rousing Shepard from his sleep. He prayed that it wasn't any of the Astartes, or 'Skitarii'. "Shepard." The familiar voice of Dr. Chakwas had eased him significantly. "It's about Tali." His ease ceased at these words, in fact it almost shattered his heart.

"Come in." He said.

The door hissed open. "I checked on Tali at 3 AM." She began. "I have two things to report." Shepard braced himself for the worse. "Tali's going to make it."

"She is?" Surprise and joy filled his voice.

"It's not due to my work however. She would be dead, if not for whatever that field medic injected her with."

"I suppose I'll have to extend my gratitude?"

"You don't understand Shepard. They say they're human, yes?"

Shepard was suddenly confused by this. "Yes, they claim that they're human."

"Then why is it that they're medicine is a hybrid dextro based? Only medi-gel has that characteristic. And if they're human, and xenophobic why would they have hybrid medicine?"

"Sorry Doc, but could you get to the point?"

"I took a sample from what they called a 'stim', nothing could be replicated. Because it's thousands of years ahead in every way. Any synthetic organic component however is similar to things we've encountered across the galaxy. Mordin helped confirm this…"

"Are you saying they're from the future or something?"

"That would be absurd, but we have no other possible hypothesis. Unless everything devolved." Chakwas concluded.

"Thank you." Shepard said, trying to digest this 'absurd' possibility.

* * *

"My lord, I have concluded one of my tasks. The schedule for this ship has been created." Oxian reported.

The sorcerer nodded as he looked through his grimoire. "What of armaments?"

"I have drawn several designs, based on heavy stubbers mostly. I wish to apologize, I would have to search for additional components for the potential of las weaponry. As for Master Gahiji, would an autocannon suffice for a total rearmament?"

"It would Oxian, the agent known as Lawson will assist you with material; do remember that."

"I do my lord." A moment of silence was had. "The Skitarii have repurposed a section of the cargo bay for training. I also wish for your permission to repurpose Vanguard-99 into a Thallax unit. Along with deconstruction Alpha-23 for spare parts."

"Do so Oxian. If you're able, see that the Krogan aboard this vessel receives a cybernetic limb." He also handed the black metal that he took from the tomb. "Convert this to a blade as well."

"May inspect your wound?" Oxian abruptly asked.

"It's fine…"

"I will need proper measurements for repairing your armor, the illusion that you're casting to the crew won't stop an actual round." The sorcerer nodded as the large form of the techpriest approached. It was a lucky shot, the black carapace halting further carnage. "My lord, your wound is slow to heal." Oxian noted the mutated flesh around the wound had staunched any bleeding, but refused to fully close.

"Another scar for now then." The Astartes growled. "Just measure how much ceramite you'll need." He looked at a line of parchment adorned with runes, and began to laugh. "So, it would seem someone of interest was watching us."

"My lord?"

"Did I ever tell you of my experiments with demonology?" The techpriest tilted his head slightly at his question. "Half a millennia before you pledged yourself to me, I rather oddly enjoyed it. I also learnt quite a decent amount of knowledge from what a 'liberated' from the Inquisition. Know a name, and oddly you know a daemon." Oxian continued his measurements. "It was odd that such a being would pledge itself to me… All I had to do was provide it a host. And all it needed was someone to read its' name, someone even slightly connected to the warp." He pointed to the parchment. "It made me into a walking daemon bomb, yet it was smart enough to wait. Until now, now it found someone who will serve Tzeentch quite well." Even with his helmet on, Oxian felt that he was grinning ear to ear. "Let us hope it keeps up its end of the bargain."

* * *

Author's Notes:

"At long last after ten millennia!"

Joking aside. The documents that contained this, along with two additional chapters became corrupt! So expect delays, along with varying quality and seemingly condensed story; sorry about that.

Edit: A friend pointed out that 'Skitarii speak' of using greater than or less than signs doesn't work. So just fixing that...


	8. Chapter 7: A Taste of only war

Chapter 7: A taste of only war.

Warning klaxons sounded, rousing the crew from their sleep. "What the hell's going on? Hey Windows, what's going on?" A crewmember yelled to his comrade, as they sprinted to the elevator.

"Nothing has been right lately. If I make it out today, I'm demanding a fucking transfer!" He responded bitterly, still tired from the sudden awakening.

Garrus, and Jacob had already prepped their kits, and were already proceeding to the cargo bay while the new arrivals were still getting the most basic of their equipment sorted.

As the elevator began its decent they made last minute checks of their weapons. "Something's off." Jacob spoke as he calibrated his SMG sight. "I haven't seen any of the Astartes, or Skitarii. Where are they?"

"With luck they already dealt with whatever-" The door opened, showing the robed soldiers. Still fully clad in their armor, the metals polished and robes cleaned; showing the regal blue much more ferociously. The hooded one tossed a grenade into the elevator, the sudden action shocked the two team members.

"Current casualties: six" She spoke in a calm, almost bored voice. Garrus looked at the grenade, and noticed that it was a dud. They exited the lift, swiftly noticing the other four.

"Tali!" Garrus called out, almost a half laugh. "I'm glad to see you on your feet!" Rushing over and nearly catching her in a friendly embrace.

"I'm surprised that I am…" She responded weakly. "I was looking at the new engine briefly…" The elevator door opened again, showing ten crew in white armor. Almost like clockwork, the Skitarius tossed another grenade. And tallied her simulated kills. Grunt simply laughed at this, Zaeed joined as well.

"Can none of you cunts look at the floor? We were the first to come down here, and I gave her back her dud! You fucks have no excuse!" Zaeed berated the crew, and that's when it fully clicked. This was indeed a training exercise.

"You should be thankfully of your lack of manpower." The larger Skitarius stated in monotone. "Higher ratings in training scores are confirmed when you apply live ordinance in addition to semi-ineffective ordinance."

"Semi-ineffective?" Miranda asked, it was rather clear of her lack of interest in training.

"All ordinance should have a minimum of 5% chance of detonation." This caused her expression to pale.

"I hope we all enjoy today than, if that's just a taste of what it's going to be like." She held up a data pad with the Normandy's schedule on it. "This just in!" She jokingly began. "Training session one: Eight fucking hours!" She placed her head in her hands and sighed, her lack of sleep was obvious.

"Time." The Ranger called out. "All remaining crew yet to arrive are to be punished for their ineptitude. Suggestion: Lower time of each muster time by ninety seconds. With time we can have them arrive on maximum permissible time in twenty seven days."

The Tribune processed this. "Granted." The door opened, the Ranger prepped another grenade; but stopped and bowed at the approaching form of the Techpriest. "My most noble lord." The Tribune addressed them.

Shepard was hidden behind the mass of machinery, and made a beeline towards his team. "Is this all we have!" The Techpriest bellowed. "I expect improvement! What are your casualties?"

"Sixteen!" The Ranger responded.

He laughed at this statistic. "Skitarii, split into two training groups. The ground team needs improvement, along with melee training. The rest are to be treated like new Defense Forces!" The Skitarii bowed at their order. He turned to Shepard, produced a scoffing noise and reentered the elevator.

The two Skitarii turned to their charge. "I am unit Tribune-49 Sortarius. I will be in charge of group zero-one." His robotic demeanor unsettled the crew, even Shepard.

"Unit Ranger-7 Prospero. I shall instruct group two." Despite the name, she was far more 'human' than her comrade. Her vocal distortion was similar to a few helmets made for intimidation. Another thing was their height. The Tribune was a seven foot monster, whilst the Ranger was roughly just below six feet.

The training began simplistic enough, almost like PT back in the basic training that everyone aboard had partaken in some form. Than they issued rifles to the team, leaving the rest of the crew to maintain their current course. The M-8s had the most simplistic of modifications; steak knives from the mess hall were tapped to the under barrel. "The bayonet is the most simplistic, yet most competent weapon in your arsenal." The Ranger spoke, looking at the rifle in minor disgust. "The noble Astartes, the courageous Guard, and even we Skitarii make use of it. So face one another." Grunt looked at the Ranger, and seemingly smiled at this change of pace. "It would seem I've forgotten your lack of a limb, xeno. You shall face me to make a lesson for the others." The team looked confusingly at the Skitarius.

"Are you mad?" Miranda said the Ranger.

Grunt simply laughed as he charged. In a single flawless action, she swept the Krogan from underneath. Grunt toppled like a lifeless corpse, the Ranger drew a long serrated knife and pointed it at the Krogan's throat. "Even the largest of foes can be taken by speed and cunning. To use a blade, you must gain a swift advantage." She pressed the knife closer to Grunt's throat. "Then you go for the kill." Even crew from the other group looked in awe of soldier. While it was trivial to think that an Astartes could best a Krogan; the mostly human soldier managed to do it with zero effort. Upon seeing the reaction of them, the Tribune took out his Arc maul and set it to the lowest setting. The force of his blow hardly strained his cybernetics, but to the crewmember it felt like an Elcor ramming into him.

He collapsed due to the strike. Almost as soon as he hit the ground, he was yanked back up. "Crewmember: I did not instruct you cease in your actions!" The Tribune spoke with an increased volume. He threw the crewmember back, only to fall again due to a loss of balance. The Tribune upped the voltage as he approached his charge.

Staggering to the right, the Tribune reactively swung his maul. Shepard barely dodging the swipe. He began to converse with his subordinate via their noospheric link. After a few brief seconds, he took a challenging pose. Shepard braced his rifle, now knowing what was to happen. He even predicted this outcome, but he couldn't leave his crew to be treated like the prisoners aboard Purgatory. He saw a blur and instinctively brought his rifle to hopefully block it. The maul impacted the center of the rifle, emitting a surge of electrical force. Both parties stopped and looked at the now horribly misshapen rifle. Shepard was amazed he managed to block the blow, the Tribune however was amazed at the low durability of the weapon. Shepard yanked the knife from the weapon, charging his opponent. The Skitarius used Shepard's momentum against him, dodging him and bringing the pommel of his maul onto Shepard's chest. He frantically began gasping for air as he fell to all fours. "I predict you may have had an 87% chance of hitting me, if your rifle had not been destroyed." He oddly complemented. "Recover and return to the charge of Ranger-7." He turned to the crew, whom swiftly returned to their PT after seeing that display.

The Ranger loomed over her charge. "If he'd been trying, you're odds would have been a 9%. You're a fool." She helped the commander to his feet. "Find a partner." She spoke to the team. "Use what you witnessed to help you in this endeavor. We will not stop until you've all shed blood this day!"

* * *

I looked at the narthecium. It's a well-crafted device, its parts however are no doubt from an assortment of chapters; traded or stolen. I looked at Tol-Kai. +Familiar?+ I jested. Approaching him I held it out to his arm, confirming that Oxian was indeed diligent and ensured its' type of armor. +Stay with me as I do this, my brother.+ My mind wrapped around his arm, carefully disassembling his right wrist guard from his body. A line of glowing dust emerged from an unseen gap in his fiber muscles. I swiftly wrapped a barrier, and my own hand around it. Such things always disturbed me; is it like sand in the wind, or are they trying to escape from their infernal prisons? Removing my hand, still poised to place it on a wound if needed. My barriers were thankfully holding him within his armor. Replacing his wrist guard with the narthecium was simple enough, yet it was unnerving. I sat for seemingly hours, watching my work to ensure he would not seep through.

He thankfully stayed within his shell. Psychically I ordered him to move his arm to confirm this. +Tol-Kai, could you activate the narthecium?+ The chainblade roared to life, and a smile creeped across my face. +Now all we need is the pauldron and powerpack of your office!+ I jested once more. +Than you will be as you were in life…+ I sighed after sending this thought.

I grabbed my personal grimoire, overlooking its' leather-bound pages. So many observations, so many experiments. Every time I see it I'm amused oh so slightly. An otherworldly whisper entered my mind as I looked at the texts. Familiar, yet not of a daemon. Clueless, I thought of what it could be; was it a psyker, a lost soul, or even my brothers? Curse this damnable void! Familiar, yet so alien! For once in my life I wish I had my sorcerous kin to ask for even a minuscule amount of knowledge. I merely sighed once more as I turned another ancient page.

* * *

"Xeno?" Oxian irritatingly spoke, knowing the xeno was looking at his work over its' own.

He glided his hand over the heavy stubber prototype. "May I make a suggestion?" Mordin asked.

Oxian would have audibly laughed at this minor interruption. "Speak xeno." He humored Mordin.

"Ammunition may become a problem, along with the disposable barrels indicating overheating issues. May I suggest conventional armaments, and thermal clips?"

The Techpriest chuckled slightly. "This is as conventional as I could possibly lower myself, primitive." He sighed. "Your weak excuse of weaponry is not worthy of an Astartes, not even a lowly guardsman!"

Mordin grabbed a data pad, and began to sketch on it. "Perhaps, but the method your wanting isn't viable. The weapon caliber would indeed cause as much damage as a Widow rifle. So a method to avoid overheating will be, as I said, thermal clips instead of the air cooled system that you're using. Along with a reduction of fire ra-"

"Lowering the rate of fire will drastically reduce its' effectiveness!" Oxian interrupted. "The rounds will have a hard enough time piercing adamantium, or even ceramite without modifications."

"What of recoil?" Mordin merely continued, never ceasing his sketching. "While the Space Marines could no doubt handle it, we could not. A universal platform may help us all." His calm, though rapid demeanor as he spoke was familiar to Oxian; much like many lowly Tech-Adepts. He placed the data pad onto the table that the large weapon resided on. Oxian swiftly grabbed and overlooked the simplistic drawing. "As shown on my impromptu idea, using our heavy weapons platforms as…" He paused for a moment as he tried to recall the correct human term for such a device. "'Under barrel launcher?' While it won't be able to contain as much ammunition as a dedicated platform, it will make up for a lower fire rate. Sorry, weaponry is not my full field of expertise; biology however is." Mordin actually looked at the data pad again, placing his hand underneath his chin; now deep in thought as more ideas suddenly flared to life.

Oxian was somewhat surprised that the xeno had managed to adapt this quickly. "Biology?" He looked at the schematic again. "Could you perhaps make a nerve agent charge for a launcher?"

He was somewhat taken back by the request, slightly shocked that the Techpriest went straight to chemical weapons without facing the Collectors himself. "Yes, but I won't know how it would affect the Collectors."

The Techpriest produced a slight tsk. "Than what good is having such a weapon? If you place too much of an emphasis on a support system, and the core weapon is weakened?"

"I'll make a prototype, perhaps it will would change your mind."

"My mind is set xeno, if you wish to humiliate yourself and waste resources; so be it." Oxian mentally gave the xeno credit, it was on the right track despite its ignorance. In truth it passed its test. Proving its 'intellect' at least proved dragging it out of training a worthy investment.

Noospherically he communed with his Peltast. #Ammunition production: Report#

#Five thousand rounds produced my lord.# He reported. #Ammunition sorting system: Complete. Current system logged as: Three armor piercing, one hollow point, and one phosphor, repeat cycle. Recommend Servitor unit for future magazine loading.#

The Peltast was correct, a Servitor would free the Skitarius for other tasks; he would have to bring a repurposing of a lower quality crewmember to his lord. He grabbed a box magazine that was resting near his prototype. "Xeno." He placed near its workstation. "Ensure that your prototype is usable with these." He simply wanted to test the xeno's ability to adapt with new quotas. "Even if you wish to use a different type, ensure it can accept both on the field." Mordin merely nodded, taking a closer examination of the design. His mind racing, shifting his previous concept only slightly.

He left the lab to the xeno. Upon his entrance to the armory he noticed the work the Peltast had completed. Upon close inspection the round quality was fairly shoddy. Yet he did not fault the Skitarius, the material he was required to use for the time being was completely horrid. He rewarded the work by upping his emotional stimuli. #Peltast: Upon completion of ten thousand rounds; you may cease for nutrient supplements, and thirty minutes of free work.#

#Thank you my lord.#

Oxian proceeded to the lift. Carrying a wrapped container, he chanted as it lowered. It was oddly satisfying how these machines functioned far better once he'd come aboard; in less than twelve hours the machine spirits went from a disorganized cry, to a choir. The door slid open, the silence of the third deck was satisfying. It made the vessel feel far larger. A far more familiar feeling, yet it was far more peaceful; no doubt due to the lack of daemons stalking the very metal like that of the Scion. He approached the Sorcerer's quarters. "My lord?" Upon speaking the door opened.

He entered, and the door sealed. Prompting the Sorcerer to speak "What is it you have to report?"

"Weapon production is adequate. I apologize that we do not even have the resources for las weaponry. I've produced a prototype system to use a round capable of at least piercing ceramite."

"When will we be able to test it?" The Sorcerer asked, never removing his gaze from his grimoire.

"In four hours full weapon training occur for the crew; I believe that would be the best time."

"Very well Oxian. Anything else?"

"Yes my lord. Firstly I wished to apologize, I won't be able to repurpose Vanguard-99 into a Thallax unit. I simply don't have the materials or equipment."

"A rad trooper is useful, but not when you serve on a tiny vessel with mortals."

"I'm well aware my lord, I purpose we reduce him to a Kataphron Servitor."

The Sorcerer sighed as he closed his grimoire carefully. "I know that you will do what is best, and within your ability. I require results, you figure out the rest." He noticed the container that Oxian held in both his hands. "What is that?"

"Another one of your orders." Unwrapping the cloth from the wood container. He grabbed it by the red grip, a sigil of the Mechanicum making its pommel. "I used the grip from Alpha-23's power sword. I wish to apologize once more, I simply lack the materials. The blade, and circuitry can be repurposed; but that's beside the point." He drew the blade from the container. Shimmering a wave of green across its pitch black metal as it moved, it was as long as a power sword of the Dark Angels; and was oddly now the same style as their blades as well. He held it out with both of his hands respectfully for his lord. Taking it, the Sorcerer swung the blade in his hands, the displaced air glowing the same shade of sickly green.

"A true beauty, my thanks Oxian." He examined the blade once more. "These are truly ferocious weapons, I always wished for one in my collection. They've always seemed to fade when I tried to seize them in the past." He walked over to his Rubricae. "I know no finer swordsman than Nakanus." The Rubric Marine seized the blade. "Thank you for fulfilling my request." Oxian bowed at his lord's words.

"We could increase our effectiveness by 300% if we convert a crewmember into a servitor as well."

"No, the crew could shatter due to its weak will without a cooperative victory soon. A lobotomized comrade won't help." He calmfully explained. Oxian once more bowed, choosing not to push the subject.

"I shall continue my works, I shall also see about transcribing our Standard Template Constructs." The Sorcerer merely nodded as Oxian turned and left.

#Lord Oxian.# The Peltast communed with his lord. #The xeno wishes for components for its prototype weapon system. Should I restrain its actions?# This report merely caused him to mentally sigh.

#Negative: Permit it to take what it requires.# He deduced that it would at least speed its progress.

* * *

"You're striking to kill! Go for the neck!" The Ranger yelled at the pathetic display in front of her. She pulled the Turian aside after witnessing another lunge towards the edge of Shepard's chest. "You couldn't kill a Gretchin with a display like that." It was odd for the two Skitarii, never in their service would they expect such a lax unit of 'soldiers'. It was as if they had no idea of what it's like to face extinction; it was disheartening to see that those who live on the battlefield for less than an hour know in their hearts that their death alone helps.

Yet they're arrogant or perhaps simply ignorant. She grabbed one of the spare M-8s and entered the center of the impromptu ring. "Face me you pathetic xeno loving weaklings! Face me!" They stopped their drills, and looked at the lone Skitarius.

#Advice against your current course of action Ranger-7.# The Tribune spoke, never adverting his gaze from the exhausted crew.

The Ranger was tempted to listen to her superior, yet they both knew they couldn't simply passively improve their charge. #By encouraging a strength of numbers they may face against a superior foe: From that witnessing losses could encourage them to hone their skills far more.# She explained.

The Tribune merely gave an approval signal. She braced her rifle, and charged at the nearest individual. Zaeed turned away from Grunt to face the approaching force. He was experienced in a firefight turned brawl, but not against something with such precision. She redirected his attempted block, surging forward and produced a small cut on the side of his neck. Instinctively he reached to the cut, producing a minor amount of blood. "You missed!" He yelled as he counter charged.

She merely ducked under the blow, before knocking him down like she did the Krogan. "If I had shifted slightly I would have killed you." She sighed. "For the purpose of this exercise you're dead. This rule applies to the rest of these xenophilic dogs."

"Xenophilic? What does that have to do with any of this?" Jacob asked, assuming a combat stance against the Ranger.

"Because it has made you weak, you've not faced anything!" She charged once more, pushing Miranda into Jacob. Knocking both of them to the ground. While Miranda rolled out of the way quickly enough, the Ranger produced a small cut on Jacob's downed neck. Miranda swiftly came to her feet, parrying a blow before the Ranger brought her leg to sweep Miranda back to the ground. Upon hitting the ground the 'bayonet' made a swift cut to her neck. Now the Ranger faced four. Grunt advanced, far wiser this time. He grabbed a crate top, and used it as a shield. #The xeno learned.# She communed to the Tribune. Garrus charged, using Grunt as cover. "Come you filth! Show me what your excuse of fury is amongst your misbegotten kind!" Grunt charged forward with a roar. Using the full force of her cybernetics she pushed the shield aside with a whine. The still charging Krogan made impact with the Ranger, knocking her onto her back. Garrus loomed over the Ranger, now offering a hand. She launched herself at the Turian, earning a small amount of blue blood on her blade. Grunt could not turn around quick enough, and gained a new scar as a result. She turned to face the last of her 'class', calculating an innumerable number of methods to defeat them.

She stopped as she recalled information gained from interfacing with the information source known as the 'extra-net'. She looked at the commander. "At least I'm not a shame to our species by breeding with xenos." Shepard charged, pushing the Ranger's rifle aside. She grabbed his rifle, attempting to wrestle it from his hands.

The struggle ended once a weak blade was felt beside her neck. She turned to see Tali, rifle prepared to sink into her neck. "Of course the xeno must use opportunity to perform such an action." Her comment caused Shepard to swing his fist with all his might, a ring of metal was heard as he made contact with the Ranger's helmet. She faced the commander, and responded in kind. Cracking his helmet, and shattering the glass visor with a mechanically assisted strike. "Less than a cowardly heretic." She said as she got up and left.

The Tribune looked at the Ranger. "Nutritional supplement break: Resume training in forty-five minutes." He spoke, as he gave pursuit to the Ranger. She stopped, almost in mid-stride for the Tribune to catch up.

* * *

Crewmembers simply collapsed from the non-stop training. While it was no less strenuous than what they've experienced in the past, even spec-ops training never had a cyborg that would beat you with a stun baton whenever you slowed down. "You gotta give me a bit to prepare!" Rupert yelled, trying to force the hungry crew away. "Damnit Windows! Do you think I expected this when I woke up? Sit down and go to sleep!"

Shepard couldn't help but laugh slightly at this, his head still ringing. It reminded him of his first days of N training, when those who had no idea what they're getting into learn the hard way. Even than looking back on those days; this is easy, unorthodox, but easy. No doubt they would have twenty hour training sessions if this wasn't a warship in a conflict. In truth the Tribune, and Ranger wouldn't have been to out of place in the villa, both as candidates and instructors. Yet even thinking about the Ranger made him drip with venom. 'Who is she to act that way!?' He asked himself. Perhaps it was a way to get under his skin, instructors often do that. Yet why call him a 'heretic'? He noticed the Techpriest, joined by his Skitarii seemingly 'conversing' near the rec-hall. It's odd seeing all of this, the ship was a boiling pot. The xenophobic, yet alien forces under the Astartes; and the seeming 'normality' of everyone else. Hunting Saren felt odd at times, but this is beyond anything predictable.

"Shepard." Garrus spoke to get his attention as he sat beside him. "Hell of a morning, huh?" He said with a slight chuckle, uncapping one of the dextro rations. Shepard merely nodded at his statement. "She shouldn't have said that. But I bet Tali getting the 'kill' made her think about us again."

"Not at all." Zaeed joined in, instead of coffee or water he was drinking from a flask with god knows what alcohol within. "I've met people that make Cerberus look like a bloody equality movement. She's new, we should count ourselves lucky she didn't 'accidently' kill anyone."

"What makes you say that?" Shepard asked, taking another swig of coffee afterwards.

"How she moved, only someone with experience can move like that; and to get that much experience you've had to been beside aliens. Unless there has been a militia or serial killer with ten thousand non-human kills, she would have shed it by now. She's been raised by it, and she's learnt it firsthand."

"That's a bit grim." Garrus added.

Zaeed nearly choked on his drink from his abrupt laughter. "Fucking look at 'em! They use knives, sharp sticks, mauls, and fucking plasma guns. Let's not forget they're minimum level of cyborg is seemingly just the legs. Then add their armor; robes and old style armor. They've either seen shit that make the Collectors a vacation, or are a traveling circus. And I doubt we found a fucking circus."

One of the Skitarii snapped their heels together, and walked towards Jacob. Shepard believed this one was a 'Peltast', it was still unclear what these titles represented; perhaps an amalgamation of rank and role. "Crewmember Taylor: You are exempt from training. You are to proceed to the armory, and assist in ammunition and miscellaneous production."

Jacob was about to object, his place was alongside his comrades. He weakly nodded at his new assignment, unable to resist their crimson gaze. The Skitarius returned to the same spot he was standing, watching the crew like a hawk. It's unsettling how they're always combat ready. Zaeed was right in some regard; their posture was not of paranoia towards them, but of stringent conditioning and experience. Despite not wielding their rifles they carried a close combat weapon, and pistol each. "How much longer do I have to wait?" Grunt growled, ceasing Shepard's observations. "When I go up against the Ranger again, I want a full stomach."

Shepard, and Garrus nearly let out a chuckle at his comment. More of the team slowly joined them, carrying drinks or a scrap of food. The latter often earned a gaze from Grunt. "Have any of you seen Mordin today?" Shepard asked.

"He has been assisting the Techpriest." Miranda replied. "Making." She waved her hand slightly, out of focus as she read from a data pad. "God knows."

Shepard looked at Miranda. "Is something up?"

She placed the data pad onto the table. "Cerberus sent reports from Illium, after all that's where we're currently going." She pointed at a line of text. 'Three teams have gone missing over the course of the last 48 hours: Caution advised, condition Alpha declared.' "That basically means we've gone dark."

"Illium's massive, how could we 'go dark'" Garrus asked, the team put down their drinks and food now looking intently at the pad and Miranda.

"Exactly, that means they were hunted."

"And if someone as the balls to hunt Cerberus down, chances are their going to try us." Zaeed added, slightly interrupting Miranda.

Miranda nodded. "But that's not all. Even if our ground teams were outed, we'd still buy information from third party sources. That would be a condition Charlie, Bravo at worst." She explained, with no fear of letting slightly classified operation procedure slip; for she was the Illusive Man's only experienced eyes on the Normandy now.

"So you're saying…" Shepard began. "That even the planet's media is down? And it's a total information blackout?"

"People would notice that, but let's be honest here; no one gives a shit about Illium. Traders sure, but they wouldn't care about the politics and such."

"What are you getting at?"

"Why would they air news from five, ten, even twenty years ago? Sure the average person forgets it every week." Miranda grinned slightly after saying this. "This is a 'quarantine', maybe a cover-up. I can however assure you, no one has the capabilities for something like this. Not the Shadow Broker, not Cerberus, not even the Council." Everyone was silent for a moment, but Garrus turned to the Techpriest and his guard. Their piercing stares looked right back, only a fool couldn't see that they heard everything. Those gathered looked at one another with uneasy stares. Miranda broke the silence. "Shepard, could we speak in private for a moment?" He nodded in response.

As they got up to leave, the Skitarii went their separate ways. The Techpriest himself heading to the Astartes, the Ranger to the Med-bay, and the other two boarding the lift. They entered Miranda's office, the door sealing swiftly behind them. "With Illium going dark…" Miranda began, now collecting her thoughts. "I suppose I should start from the beginning. As you know, I'm not a 'standard' human; I was made to be perfect my genes tailored to be superior in every way. My father… He wasn't the best of men, let alone a good father." She sighed. "I wasn't his first attempt, but I was the first he kept. In short: I have a sister, a twin; not out of love or compassion, but to build him a dynasty. She's the reason I joined Cerberus, to better protect her from him. And she's on Illium…"

"Do you think he's capable of this?"

"The blackout? No, of course not; like I said, no one known could do that. But I haven't heard anything from her in a while. I just need to know if she's safe."

Shepard nodded. "Of course, we'll find her."

Miranda smiled weakly. "Thank you Shepard. In truth, the lack of information terrifies me far more than knowing he found her."

"Terrified, you? That's new." Shepard sarcastically responded. "I'll do my best, I assure you." Miranda nodded as Shepard went to leave the room. He was blocked by the hulking mass of machinery that was the Techpriest. Shepard instinctively jumped back, the arachnid like eyes never averting their gaze. He then noticed his claw like hand producing a small amount of electrical arcs between its sharpened digits.

He turned towards Miranda. "Most excellent, I can speak to you both about a few details." He clattered forward on his many legs, causing Shepard to step back at an equal pace.

"Yes, of course. What is it?" Miranda sheepishly asked.

"I accessed the ship's machine spirit many times now, and I must ask. What is this 'EDI'?" Both of their heart rates soared as he said this.

"I'm sorry but 'machine spirit'?" Miranda inquired, it was clear she was simply buying time for something to take its attention.

He opened and closed his claw, producing a small amount of sparks as they made contact with one another. "Answer my question. You're human, I don't need my Ranger to help me learn your pain threshold."

Miranda looked at Shepard as the Techpriest grew ever closer. "It's a VI!" She yelled, fear dripping from her voice. The Techpriest tilted his head slightly, lowering himself allowing his head alone to approach Miranda. "A VI, is a program to visually interact with a user. Targeting optics, holograms, and the like. They make it easier to read data, as it's being read to you."

The Techpriest backed away. "Not so difficult little one." He produced a scroll, an actual paper scroll. "That was more for him, perhaps our lord is correct about your usefulness. I wish for these materials to be acquired, as soon as possible."

She took the scroll and carefully unfurled it. The writing was in ink, almost by hand as well. Upon reading it for a few moments she clasped her mouth in her hands. "A human slave!" She yelled, nearly throwing the paper down. Shepard pivoted toward the machine.

"Or prisoner, preferably one with a life sentence." He responded calmly.

"We don't condone such actions! Not in Council space, and not on my ship!" Shepard yelled back.

"It's not slavery, it's repurposing. Also, I'm certain your 'Council' allows it. Our mutual lord wishes for the Batarians extinction for practicing it, due to the lack of any retaliation." His words shocked them both; while the closest Shepard was to 'racist' was indeed towards the Batarians, but to wish for their extinction!

Miranda collected her thoughts. "What do you mean repurposing?" She made a façade of calm, just to acquire more information at the least.

"Surgically lobotomize, and mechanically enhanced. Converting them into Servitors would ensure no waste, for why have a human waste what it could be returning to its race by being locked away."

Their flesh paled. "That's immoral…" Miranda nearly whispered.

"Waste is immoral." A silence permeated the room, only clicking and whining from the innumerable collaborating machines broke the otherwise deathly silence. What could only be assumed to be a sigh erupted from the Techpriest. "Perhaps I could attempt using xenos; I believe we did once in our past, may as well try it now."

"No, it's still wrong." Shepard spoke up.

He turned to face Shepard. "Commander, for everyone's sake learn one thing; as long as victory is achieved, nothing is too 'immoral'. I was originally sent to inform you, you're training is postponed; you are to speak to our lord." He turned back to Miranda. "Think it over, but obtain the listed alloys. Do not disprove your usefulness, a mind such as yours would make for a fine servo-skull. You're also excluded from training until you report back to me." Pivoting with a countless number of clinks, he turned and left without another word.

She placed her head in her hands. "I'll begin sorting through this. Go sort everything else out." Shepard began to head to the door. "Thank you again, Shepard." He meekly nodded, and went to the observation room.

The conversations amongst the crew was almost drowning as he walked, no doubt he was still pale as the snow from the monstrous act that the Techpriest purposed. Glancing into the Med-bay, he saw the Ranger standing over their deceased comrade; carefully removing his cybernetic parts. It was odd to think that they may be simple monsters like what he described. "Shepard!" Tali called out, he diverted his course to speak with his friend just for a short while. "Are you alright?" Her voice was entirely of concern as he walked closer.

"Yes, I'm fine." He hastily responded. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to thank you again, for Haestrom. No one would have made it out if not for you."

Shepard smiled at this, but it quickly faded. "We were lucky Tali, we wouldn't have made it without…"

"You don't give yourself any credit, it was my mistake that led to this." She pointed at the almost ad-hoc repairs on her suit. "We're out, saving the galaxy one more time. And if that didn't stop us, nothing will!" It was a bizarre change of pace with Tali's sudden cheerfulness.

"Thanks Tali, we'll talk later alright." She nodded, and Shepard continued towards the Astartes quarters.

Before even approaching the panel the door opened. A wave of an otherworldly, and pleasant scent surrounded him. The room was pitch black from even a few feet away, reaching out his hand confirmed there was no physical barrier. He slowly walked through the barrier, and it was as if all his natural warning sounded at once. He wanted to flee, but he was uncertain of what he would flee from. Shaking his head, and rubbing his eyes it was as if he were in a different world. The blurred surroundings took shape into the familiar layout of the observation room. A hiss of the door sealing broke the illusion, the dimly lit room was bathed in an eldritch candle light. Looking out the window was an indescribable experience, as the colors of a nebula roared like a tempest. "Commander." The familiar voice of the Sorcerer spoke calmly. The tempest died down, and he was surrounded by the emerald lenses of the Astartes; each standing guard at the corners of the room. Perched above the Sorcerer was a blue raven with fiery eyes, it vanished into a veil of glowing dust upon being seen.

Upon taking in his surroundings, he turned to the Sorcerer. "What was that?" He asked.

"A small taste of the Warp. An illusion, nothing more. I wanted to see how you reacted. What did you think?"

"It was bizarre, I'm not entirely sure how to describe it." Shepard responded, looking at the Rubric Marines.

The Sorcerer adjusted his cloak to cover the right side of his chest as he sat. "Do you play Regicide, Shepard?"

"Regicide?" He looked at the board in front of the Sorcerer. "Oh, I don't frequently play chess."

The Sorcerer chuckled slightly at this. "Good, neither do I. I found mostly two people play; brilliant strategists, or inept tacticians. Some foolishly compare it to an actual war, but they're idiotic to think as such." Shepard sat across from the Sorcerer. "While war is indeed about managing your resources the game gets two things wrong; how they're applied, and most importantly is that no war has or ever will be equal for both sides."

"I don't think you could ever compare a game to reality."

"Well said." He moved a pawn forward. "War is, like any art, is not something that could be taught in its entirety. Just like mastering the Warp, you have to be submerged in it. That's what will always make us different..."

Shepard moved his knight ahead. "Yes, because you don't care about the people in the crossfire."

"Why would we? Nothing matters if you're made extinct. Every day, if you don't fight you'll die." He said as he mimicked Shepard's move.

"You don't mind that concept, seeing how you'd do that to the Batarians without batting an eye."

He laughed slightly. "No matter how strong a force, it won't win without the will to do so. When your Reapers arrive, what mindset will be needed? Save as many as you can, or sacrifices will be made; none too big, and none too small? If I went slaughtering every Batarian, never showing a sign of mercy. Will they fight to the end? Than what of your 'Council'? If I freed every slave, and let them return to their families; how would they react?"

Shepard pondered this for a moment. Moving a pawn on the opposite side of the board before speaking. "I couldn't give a solid answer. Regardless, they'd try to stop you; but how far they'd go is almost random. Diplomacy, subterfuge, full scale military action." He sighed. "I know firsthand how worthless they can be at times. I'm certain it would be determined by you in the end. Blatant xenophobia won't gain any pluses, even if you freed slaves. That reminds me; your Ranger she-"

"She was raised to be like that, her actions are acceptable; even within our legion." Shepard was about to retort, along with inquiring for more information. "In the Schola, she would have been raised to be fanatically loyal. To hold the tenants of the Imperium above all else. To hate the alien, the mutant, and the heretic. In the back of her mind you betrayed a tenant at an unforgivable scale. It's a simple fact that you bred with a xeno, or at least attempted to. Even the 'heretics' would never do such an act. All but the most sadistic and depraved of course."

"The Schola? Imperium? I'm sorry I'm lost." He spoke as the Sorcerer moved his knight once more.

"Think of it as an orphanage, and school. They're indoctrinated, and later on trained to be flawless killers, or other roles that require loyalty and education first. The Tempestus Scions, Commissars, and the Adepta Sororitas; in the Ranger's case she was a Hospitaller of the Sororitas, which you should be thankful for. As for the Imperium, that's a tale of over twelve millennia I believe it is now."

Moving another pawn forward before speaking. "I am still thankful, but twelve thousand years? That's… Remarkable."

"It's a wonder, even in my eyes. Despite being beset on all sides, humanity holds; it's said those who've died in service to the Emperor alone, now outnumber the stars themselves."

"It sounds like hell. I couldn't imagine living in a place like that."

"Nor would you. Simply because of what those around you, and by extension, what you view yourself as." Shepard straightened his back as the Sorcerer spoke, growing more like a teacher in some fashion as he spoke to the commander. "A hero, in a universe where such things don't exist. Even I've read the tales; tales of single men leading crusades, tales of single Astartes surviving the impossible. These are always, tilted, even if just slightly." The Sorcerer stopped for a moment, collecting his thoughts as he moved his other knight. "Tales of the men of the Commissariat fighting Astartes, and Orks, besting insurmountable odds; only to be, in truth, an inward coward. Or Astartes who single handily faced a daemon Primarch. Let me ask you; if there were a man who killed entire populations of civilians, to save his fellow Astartes from a fate worse than death. Would he be a villain, or a hero in your eyes?"

The question caught him off guard slightly. "I'd have to know more, but he'd be a villain from that description. The lives of the innocent are above anything else."

"If he were trying to undo a mistake from millennia prior; to reclaim not only his own fate, but that of his brothers as well? One thing the tales never tell is that the cycles of 'villain and hero' are constantly shifting. That the victim was once the villain, and the villain was once the victim. When you fought Saren, how did you view him?"

"He was indoctrinated, a puppet to the Reapers. He had to be stopped!"

"You viewed him as a 'villain', in that regard I'm amazed you defeated him with your own morals intact." He tapped his hand on the table before continuing. "I was the foe to an Eldar Farseer, millennia ago. She always acted as the hunter, even when the tables turned. I grew to have only respect towards the xeno, as I have many of my foes. When you respect your rival you can see through their eyes as they see through your own. And when they finally die, be it at your hand or another; something inside you dies, a fire extinguished. Did you feel that with Saren's death?"

Moving a pawn forward as he spoke. "Can't say I had that feeling."

"Than does that make you a remorseless killer?" Shepard tensed up as he said this. "Now that cycle shifted, and now you'd be the 'villain'."

"But he was going to bring back the Reapers, we all would have died!"

The Sorcerer laughed slightly. "Indeed, you would have. Yet that mindset caused you to know you've done the 'right' thing, a thing that once again does not exist. If those catacombs went your way, you would have decreed it to be the 'right' thing. And kept doing it until it goes wrong, in that regard I'm glad Tali ended up wounded. Or you would have kept doing it until she ended up dead one day. A waste."

Shepard balled his hands before loosening them. "I heard what you do to 'waste', it's simply not right."

He sighed. "Oxian is truly pushing for a Servitor, no doubt he knows best in that regard. Yet he's right in the end; when the Reapers arrive, every man, woman, and child will be thrown into the maws of war. As I said, the galaxy is a never ending conflict of extinction; a conflict that you, or everyone else won't notice until it's too late." He moved a pawn to block Shepard's. "Take the xenos you deem as 'friends'. I tolerate them aboard this ship, because they're useful. Yet I hate the Batarians because of their transgressions, and I hate the Asari as they are a plague. Breeding with xenos, and humans; never making a hybrid, just more Asari. When the races of the galaxy see this, how would they react? Laws banning intercourse, maybe even genocide?"

It was a terrifying concept to say the least, yet pondering this; he was right, while it's sickening, some species might do that. "I doubt it's simple, barbaric 'logic' that makes you think that."

"I have been to the worst places imaginable, and I have taken gifts from the darkest shrines; all to ensure our victory. We've been enhanced to conquer the stars, to restore humanity. Ages long since past, we were like you are now. Speculation, and what little remaining evidence we have showed that humanity prospered with xenos. "

"Speculation?" Shepard lowered his posture, now captivated by what he's saying. "So you can't say for certain?"

The Sorcerer shook his head. "Details are scarce on our Golden Age, what we know for certain is that we spread amongst the galaxy. Nowhere was impossible to settle; science, and a desire to spread was our vision. A few rare documents stated that we frequently traded, and there were even colonies that were inhabited by humans, and xenos."

"How did it all fade into obscurity?"

"The Age of Strife happened. The Golden Age of Technology ended with the emergence of Warp Storms. Our method of travel is comparable to ships of Terra-"

"When there's a hurricane they could not see the stars…" Shepard muttered.

The Sorcerer nodded. "Yes, colonies were separated. Trade, supplies, communication all grounded to a halt. Yet that was not the end of our woes, AI constructs we relied upon turned on us. The Men of Iron killed an innumerable number of people. Everything else is speculation, or only the aftermath being witnessed. We believed the cohabited worlds turned on each other first, desperation, or hatred; they butchered each other. Tell me Shepard; if the Batarians captured humans and refined them into narcotics, how would you react?"

"Disgusted; but you can't be-"

"Some xenos did; some used us as cattle, slaves, pleasure devices for increasingly sadistic acts. This is why we hate the alien. I no doubt know you recall your crewmember's unfortunate fate on our first day aboard. Picture that, but on a grander scale. Psykers such as myself were born at an ever increasing rate, with no knowledge of their abilities, they brought what should not exist into our existence; purely by mistake of course. Trillions more likely died. That is why the mutant is hated." The Astartes stood up, speaking as if it were some grand display. "Terra, the birthplace of humanity, separated from her colonies could not sustain herself. Its people, now desperate, even turned on each other. For several millennia, the people known as Techno-Barbarians fought; destroying most of Terra's ancient culture. They were crushed in time, by the Emperor of Mankind. He rose from the ashes of our failed past, vowing to return us to our former glory. When the Unification Wars were concluded, the Emperor created the Primarchs; and from their very DNA, us Astartes. My own legion was made nearing the end of the war, a thousand of us; myself included. And after us, thousands more!" Shepard was almost in awe at him, but it was odd that he was not speaking to Shepard; but he acted as if he were on some grand stage, speaking to countless millions. "Peacefully he brought the Technophile Priesthood of Mars into our fold. With their support, the newly formed legions began their conquest. The Great Crusade had begun!" He continued speaking in continual grandiose. "The Primarchs, scattered across space were slowly found; reunited with their sons. Humanity was being reconquered, some even liberated from their xeno oppressors. When we found our Primarch…" He stopped, looked down slightly before resuming. "Fate was cruel to us until we found our Primarch, Magnus the Red; the Crimson King! The XV legion, now barely over a thousand strong, was brought back from the brink."

It was odd as he told his tale of the Imperium, but also that of his legion as well. He told a short tale of his legion during their initial briefing, yet this was different. He never mentioned extensive losses prior, but now that there's also context to it. "How did you lose so many of your 'brothers'?" Shepard simply asked. Causing the Sorcerer to pause, and fall silent. Upon seeing this Shepard swiftly said. "Sorry, we all have things we don't want brought up. Living as long as you have, you no doubt have many."

He nodded in appreciation, making the Astartes seem far more human than anything else. "We grew, and built a home for ourselves; Prospero, the bastion of knowledge. Centuries of watching our domain grow, building up to a new Golden Age." He continued, now almost in a slightly somber tone. "Than the Great Betrayal happened. One of the most unpleasant things in the galaxy is to see Astartes, and their Primarchs at each other's throats. We were betrayed, left for the Wolves due to our mistake. A mistake made for the noblest of reasons. Even Magnus bowed his head to succumb to this fate. In the final moments, facing the Wolf King himself; brother against brother, cousin against cousin. I still see it whenever I close my eyes." Shepard noticed the direction of his head, unmoving he swiftly realized what was happening; he was reliving every minute, every blow, and every loss. "Magnus, saved us from that fate temporarily." He continued. "The 'Horus Heresy' continued, a never-ending slaughter. Until the gates of the Imperial palace. The Emperor fought his dearest son aboard his vessel; a son who killed his brothers, he even slayed Sanguinius; the beloved angel. Accurate tales of their battle are scarce; but the most accepted both in and out of the Imperium was when Horus gained the upper hand, a single mortal guardsman stood between them. Horus destroyed the mortal, much as I could kill a child. The Emperor killed his son. His body and soul ceasing to exist, they fled afterwards; now leaderless, and scattered. The Emperor, now nearing death, was entombed on the Golden Throne; his psychic might acting as a guiding beacon to ships in the Warp. He has been like that ever since, withering away; his vision fading every day. It is that reason why they abhor the traitor, and 'heretic'"

Shepard was speechless for a moment. "The Emperor sounds almost like a god." Upon saying this, the Astartes snapped out of his somber trance.

"No, he is no god. That belief is what led to the Betrayal in the first place!" He nearly roared. "In fact it showed one thing for certain; the greatest and mightiest of our race can fall, be it by their mistakes or others. If they could fail, you can far more easily." He turned to look out the port. "Don't look back Shepard, for you the Reapers will use a mountain of corpses to defeat you. Best you can do is scale that mountain, and use it to your advantage. Horizon proved one thing; you are about to enter a battlefield, unlike any other. You may not survive, not anyone aboard this ship may survive. All I can show you is how to die with honor and dignity. So, do you believe that we can kill them all?"

Shepard chuckled slightly at this. "An N7 Spectre and his crew, with a veteran of ten thousand years with probably the best trained and equipped people in the galaxy. Yes, I believe we can."

The Sorcerer nodded in approval. "You may be forced to deliver the sentence condemning millions, if not billions to oblivion. That will be your true test, not in the battle but in the mind. My advice is to debate with your crew, ask 'how much they'll sacrifice before throwing their lives away?' Ensure they're willing to perform the unthinkable."

* * *

#Techpriest?# The Tribune fallowing him called out. #If I may inquire: Why do we not use the vessels cogitators for the STCs?#

Oxian scoffed at his Tribune's words. #I do not trust anything aboard this vessel. We may lose the data, or it may fall into the wrong hands. It truly confuses me how trusting our lord is.# They stared at the glowing sphere of the drive core, taking in its bizarre technology. #He knows fully what I could do with the crew, and it would make them far better than they are now!#

#Perhaps he does know. Yet he is using them as cattle, perhaps for infiltration.# The Tribune added.

#I'm well aware.# Extending his mechadendrites, he interfaced with the nearby machines. #Now he wishes me to provide cybernetics to the xeno, and work with these fools to adapt Vanguard-99#

A feint sound of footsteps was heard, inaudible to unaugmented ears. The Tribune placed his hands over his weapons, prepared to defend his Techpriest to the death. The door hissed open, showing the veiled xeno; Tali. The Tribune lowered his hand around the arc pistol, but never his maul. "I'm sorry." She sheepishly muttered. "I can come back." She said turning to leave.

"No." The Techpriest irritatingly said. "Perform your duty." She stopped, hoping he wouldn't say that. Turning around, she walked to her station; never returning eye contact to Oxian, and his guard. #They fear us, I'd prefer to keep it that way.#

#Perhaps that is our lord's idea: Reduce it to an acceptable level.#

Oxian's audible sigh unnerved Tali, its silence piercing effect was sudden; and in some regard made him seem mad. "Xeno, what action are you performing?"

"I'm just…" Even speaking to the hulking machine was difficult, the simple idea that it's not something like a Geth was as unbearable as if it was one. "Getting used to the new equipment."

The whines, and creeks of Oxian's mechanical components; combined with the hum of the engine was far more like the ships of the Migrant Fleet. The occasional glance at Oxian showed him tinkering with the other console. It was intriguing to see the mechanical arms at work, but part of her was simply terrified what he might do. Let alone what caused him to become something like that. An occasional almost human hum emitted from the Techpriest. His hums grew more frequent and less sporadic. "Be still, sprits, I do what I must. Forgive the intrusion. And give me your trust." He spoke, followed by a series of ones and zeros. Upon turning to her station she noticed the core status changing. It grew hotter as the electrical charge increased, yet somehow the containment core wasn't melting down despite this sudden change. In fact she had to swiftly prevent a dangerous power surge. The core simply continued in this effort for minutes, never ceasing its climb.

"Techpriest!" She called out, as the power levels reached a dangerously high chance of a deadly surge. "Stop! Or the power systems won't be able to contain itself!"

Oxian pulled away from the station, advancing to the power core. Chanting in binary as he moved. "With your strength you protect me," His Servo-Arms moving towards the emergency access console, and the containment hatch to the core itself. "With your care I repair you." He opened the hatch, the glow of the Element Zero core bathed the deck in a bright blue. The blinding light made it impossible to see all but Oxian's outline. "With sacred oil I appease you. Be quiet, good spirits. And accept my benediction." In less than a minute the core was sealed. The core purred, the previously dangerous surge levels had no effect on the containment unit's condition. The Techpriest wrote on a line of parchment, before affixing it to the core with a wax stamp.

Tali was in awe as she looked at the console. "The core should have overloaded. What did you do?" She asked Oxian, now leaving his work satisfied.

"A machine works as any mere organic works. As long as its body and mind are healthy." Tali looked at the seal adorning the containment field as he left. Already hardened, with a half machine skull.

* * *

Ranger-7 was hard at work with the Alpha's corpse, disassembling his limbs and removing his armor. Care had to be taken, as it's unknown if a daemon resided within his circuitry. Yet any evidence of one had faded, a hollow husk remained; as if what claimed him died. No, it's as if it banished itself. An odd reaction due to the Warp Rift. She diligently removed his left arm, bile filling her throat as it was to be repurposed for the Krogan. 'A desecration of not only the human form, but of the Machine as well.' She thought to herself, but she had orders. Removing the Alpha's helmet revealed his skeletal features. His flesh long since faded; his right eye was merged with his helmet with cybernetics, while his left was held in place with a adamantium frame, and his eye stem; and kept alive by a chemical soup. She checked the magnetic clamps of the Skitarius. Taking two more hydrogen flasks, and three phosphor blast pistol cylinders. She wrote down every item that was recovered; every gram of ceramite, plasteel, and adamantium. Once her work was done she would relay such information to both of her lords. A chronometer sounded. #Honored Techpriest: I wish to inform you that I'm unable to conclude my task.#

#Continue, Tribune-49 shall head it for the next hour. This is a more important task than the lives of these fools.# Oxian sent back.

#Very well my lord, I shall continue this task.# She was actually happy about this, as it meant less time around those despicable xenos. She expected her emotional stimuli to be dialed back with this thought, for her to once more become a tool than a soldier; but oddly it wasn't, she remained fully conscious. In the back of her mind it made some form of odd sense. Even the Tribune was no longer dialed back into a processing leader. Perhaps their Techpriest merely agreed with these thoughts, perhaps even their lord Sorcerer. Perhaps these xenos were going to be but mere instruments of their will. Tools to bring about the glories of the old Imperium, just as her lords told her tales of when she was captured nearly over a quarter of a century ago. 'To be a cog of righteousness, in a machine of darkness. To bring the age of light back to the blind.' Was what the Techpriest told her while she was to be a sacrifice to a Tzeentchian cult. And apparently what he was told as well while he fled for 'Tech-Heresy'.

She inspected the blast pistol; aside from a few scratches and tearing, it was in exceptional condition. Yet the Alpha carried even more seemingly miscellaneous equipment in the storage compartment of his pack. She knew that the Alpha, when not restrained as he frequently was, was almost a kleptomaniac. Instead of things to sell, he stole for his lord. When some were deemed 'Not worthwhile' he took the 'ones that produce the most blinks and boops.' As a young Tech-Thrall put it. She laughed at this, as she took out Auspexes, and Cogitators. To be fair, the Alpha was brilliant when it came to identifying seemingly the most mundane of technology. He was able to tell the difference between a handheld Auspexes from the Heresy, to one produced from Graia in the last five millennia with but a glance. Even as a Ranger if these were placed among their less advanced counterparts she could not tell the difference. She wrote them down as 'Possible Heresy-era Auspexes: 3' She continued looking through his pack, before pulling out a small anti-grav device. "Why would you have this?" She muttered to herself. Placing it on the nearby table, and recording it.

A hiss and sliding of the Med-bay's door was heard, even though the surgical veil she identified the approaching figure as Dr. Chakwas. She sat at her desk, before swirling the chair towards the Ranger. "I wish this ship were bigger, you'd have a proper morgue for that." She found herself agreeing with those words, no interruptions or the like. "We have caskets, just ask Shepard when you need one prepared."

"No." She responded, concluding her search of his pack with a personal stimm kit. "All parts are to be salvaged; including organs, bones, and even blood." She half expected the doctor to leave at this, but she actually got up and walked over.

Upon seeing the Alpha's cybernetic body she was taken back. "If you need help, I'll do what I can; but a few things would be beyond my ability." The direction of her eyes were obviously indicating the organs infused with cybernetics.

"Very well." The Ranger responded, thanking the fact that she's human. "His digestive system is unneeded, it's atrophied due to its lack of function. Skin is gone. Lungs are mostly cybernetic. Ribcage has been replaced with a thin plasteel plate. Heart is still mostly organic." She began listing the line of what was left of the Alpha. She decided simplest thing would be to start from the top. "We'll remove the skull first." Dr. Chakwas returned wearing a surgical mask and wheeling a trey with surgical instruments.

Upon arriving she pointed at the line of wiring from his skull interlinking with his spine. "If we should remove the rib plate first. He seems to be held together mostly by that, getting rid of it would give us free access to the rest." The Ranger nodded at this statement, impressed that she's not backing down. "How should we go about this?"

"Hand me the saw." A small rotary saw was passed to the Ranger. Upon making contact with the support points connecting to the spine sparks were produced. After a minute of slowly slicing through the first support was cut through. "Now for the other twenty-three supports."

* * *

Mordin had spent most of his time on the final details of his prototype. It may have taken him days if he were not permitted the parts, but he was making steady progress. Yet he failed; adapting the current weapon's platform produced too many flaws. He wasn't going to back down however. Devoid of fear of a punishment, he finished his almost jury-rigged design. The lower receiver was taken from the standard M-8, but everything else was hand made. He prepared a small firing booth. Protected by reinforced glass, the weapon was activated. The lower barrel emitted an orange beam with a whine. Mordin smiled at the first weapon system's success. He went behind switched it to its' auxiliary fire mode with his omni-tool. An arc of blue lightning was emitted from the glowing capacitor adorning the top. It began to produce thick plumes of smoke as it began to overheat, causing him to swiftly cease the test. It was a start; and perhaps by showing the system, the Techpriest may assist him in ironing out the flaws.

* * *

The plasteel plate was finally removed from the Alpha's body, showing the almost disgusting level of augmentation. His intestinal system seemed to be mostly replaced by what could only be assumed as a synthetic marrow; its sole purpose to produce an oily blood. Two cylinders were side by side. Dr. Chakwas assumed they were some form of recycling system; perhaps rejuvenating old blood cells and collecting what couldn't for a surgery to dump the rest. The Ranger disconnected them from the large black pipes that the veins and arteries were connected to. She pulled them from the Alpha placing them onto the table. The lungs were more metallic in nature, but resembled normal lungs. They were swiftly cut out by the Ranger, revealing two tanks connected to them. 'An emergency oxygen supply' Dr. Chakwas concluded. Oddly besides those two thing, the Alpha was mostly human. "He wouldn't have survived much longer anyway." The Ranger muttered as she removed the heart. "His organic components in this state, primitive replacements for it. He may have lived for maybe three more years without becoming a Sicarian."

It was surprising to hear that there's a limit to their augmentation. Or perhaps there's no true limit, it depends on the platform. "A 'Sicarian'?" She decided to ask as she watched the Ranger at work.

"Quick strike Skitarii; when a Skitarii nears death they may be given a second chance. He's mostly a Sicarian now in terms of augmentation actually. The lungs and heart should have been completely replaced, instead of partially. Since that didn't happen, he was running on a short timer due to the inefficiencies of flesh. All you really need was the head, some Techpriests require the torso and limb stumps. Our lord Techpriest wouldn't care." After the last of the 'salvageable' organs were removed; the digestive tract, now a disgusting grey mush, was placed in a surgical pan. "Shame that he died, or that would have been his life." She spoke with little emotion, not caring for the loss of her comrade; perhaps there was disappointment more than anything else, as they keep saying 'a waste.' "Place these in storage."

"What about the skull?" Chakwas asked as she began to lift the heavy blood containers.

"It will be a personal project." She stated in a plain tone, the nature of a project requiring a human skull confused Dr. Chakwas.

* * *

The familiar whine of weapons fire filled the cargo deck. Holographic targets flared red as the rounds made contact. The thick kinetic barriers behind them constantly activing, preventing hull damage. A small section of the range was cordoned off by the two Skitarii, standing a silent vigil. The third Skitarius, the Peltast, joined them; carrying two large boxes. He opened them and began to remove their contents. Large chains of ancient rounds, and boxy magazines. Shepard recognized the round from training as .50 BMG. The second box however contained a weapon. It was something out of a history museum, almost a carbon copy of a MG-42, merely enlarged to be as nearly tall as Grunt simply to accommodate the round. It was odd to see that is the best that they could come up with, perhaps he was anticipating a heat ray of some kind.

Some ceased fire to ogle the weapon, either entranced or disappointed. The sudden sound of an electrical discharge made them turn their attention back to the range. The Peltast concluded setting up the weapon by deploying it on its bipod. The biggest change from the old machine gun that it was derived from was that it was using a magazine, making it in essence more akin to a 21st century rifle; or the LMGs before humanity joined the galactic community. The thudding of the Astartes power armored boots could be heard as the elevator hissed open. Three emerged, the Sorcerer leading them. It was odd to see that the two following him had 'esoteric' equipment; one had a device on his wrist with a small chainsaw and a drill, whilst the other had a black medieval longsword with his normal curved blade. "This is your prototype Oxian?" The Sorcerer asked after glancing at the weapon.

"Yes, if it is not satisfactory I shall recommence my work immediately." There was a small tone of irritation as he spoke.

"That will not be necessary. Where is the xeno and his prototype?"

"It would seem he could not fulfill our deadline, my lord." Shepard could hear his triumphant tone, dismissive of Mordin's work.

The Sorcerer sighed, leaving the one with the wrist mounted chainsaw to pick up the weapon. "The design basis was to pierce at least ceramite in a single package." Oxian explained. "Vraks pattern, battle proven."

The Astartes laughed at his final statement. "We've all read about Vraks, anything from that battlefield is proven!" The tester held the weapon at the hip, using the bipod as a fore grip. Whines from the crew's rifles were rendered mute once the dull droning from the machine gun began. Its target glowed a solid red as it attempted to register the amount of rounds making contact with it. The kinetic barrier fell shortly afterwards, causing the rear wall to erupt in a rain of sparks. Upon ceasing fire the barrel glowed red hot, smoke bellowing from it. With a pull of a side mounted latch the assembly opened, allowing the Astartes to remove the barrel and slide a new one in. "Adjust its fire rate slightly. Each of us would carry a maximum of five of the magazines, we need to last without supply at times. Otherwise, you've done exceptional work yet again; produce an additional one of these per ten crew members." Oxian bowed at his lord's request, only for him to turn at the sudden hiss of the elevator door.

Carrying a large boxy weapon, it was seemingly made from scrap and omni-gel. Mordin ran out and towards the range with a large glowing backpack, a rubber coated wire connecting it and the weapon. "Apologies, many malfunctions originally along with the necessity of cutting features." He spoke rapidly as he approached them. "My prototype; it's functional, but if I'm given more time-"

"You're late, and our lord Astartes has-"

The Sorcerer raised his hand, ceasing the Techpriest's berating. "Prepare the weapon…" He sighed.

Mordin loaded the weapon swiftly, before unloading it and repeating this process three times; it used large cylindrical magazines, and it was clear he was simply ensuring the system worked once more. "I had to remove some key features due to time. The scope, the ability to fold, maglocks, and-"

"Do you have it written down?" The Sorcerer interrupted.

"Yes, I-"

"Good, you will have time to finish it after this test." The testing Astartes brought the weapon up to his shoulder. A screeching whine filled the bay, as the orange beam was held in place at the center of the target. The kinetic barrier began to fail, causing the Astartes to let go of the trigger.

"I installed an electrical discharger, could you please test it?" Mordin asked, gesturing to the trigger in front of the magwell. It jammed, but upon pulling the trigger for the second time a bolt of electricity was launched, overloading the kinetic barrier instantly. "Currently it requires the back mounted power source, and the primary fire is a direct equivalent to the Collectors particle beam weapons. Sadly it requires the heavy magazines, each weighing a kilogram."

The Sorcerer clapped his hands together, his signature staff seemingly hovering above the ground. "A fine design, you'll be given time to finish it if you desire." Oxian looked at his lord in disbelief. "But it is not for our hands. Adapt it for the mortals' xeno. Is it not made for that in mind? Shepard, could you test it?" He placed his rifle on the rack, before walking over. The Astartes handed him the weapon, and its weight could be felt immediately. Almost twice that of a Widow sniper rifle. "Equip the power pack." Doing what he was ordered to do, and took the pack. And was immediately surprised that Mordin could haul this from the lab to here. It was now that of a full combat kit for a single weapon. "You may fire when ready."

Upon inspecting the rifle its distant ugliness was lessened. The familiar stock of the M-8 sat snuggly in his shoulder, the only true problem was the lack of interfacing equipment causing him to 'eyeball' his shots; something difficult to do with the hot glowing capacitor blocking his field of view. There was little recoil as he held down the trigger, just a whine that made his basic ear protection worthless. Upon ceasing fire Shepard gave his opinion. "It's heavy, and needs some optics. Otherwise it's a good rifle."

He turned to his Techpriest. "Excellent, we'll produce both designs. Oxian, see what you can do to improve the xeno's design. It's also clear to me that you did not assist the xeno at all, I'm disappointed." Oxian bowed his head in defeat. "We are forced to fight together; and it's clear none of us care for it. But I feel that time is now against us, and a storm is gathering." He walked towards the elevator, his Rubricae in tow.

* * *

Fury; fury was perhaps the most simplistic terms that went through Oxian's mind. His Skitarii felt as if they failed in some way, but he knew why the xeno was publically praised. To teach a lesson, a pointless lesson. "Xeno!" Oxian yelled. "Make your worthless hide useful! Grab power capacitors, and put them in the lab!" He mentally laughed at himself. This wasn't the first time his lord did this; after all a little false competition never hurt anyone? He turned to the crew. "All but crewmember: Tali Zorah. You're to be under command of Peltast-12." #Peltast-12: Begin weapon production…#

#At once.# The Peltast bowed. "All crew under my command: Follow me to the armory for next assignment!"

They boarded the elevator in groups. #My lord# The Ranger now communed with him. #I wish to pursue a project-#

The request was sudden and unexpected. #Fine. After our current task of course.# He sent interrupting her communication, still annoyed about this 'joint-venture' not going as planned. This was to be his sole glory, to show that the idea of actually mutually working with xenos was pointless. "You." He glanced at the xeno he was forced to work with. "Prepare radiation resistant equipment. And I hope you are not squeamish."

* * *

I did not blame Oxian for his actions; for I too abhor this near requirement to work with xenos as equals. Yet we must both shed this, merely out of desperation. The red headed assistant awaited for me at the door to my chambers. "What is it you want? Why are you not with the rest of the crew?" I growled.

"Technically I'm a member of the necessary support staff. As I monitor communications." It was a pathetic excuse, I would have to inform Oxian to add her name to the training lists. "The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you."

Many things have been said about this 'Illusive Man', having such an ally would benefit us greatly. "Why would a shadow wish to speak with me? Surly he would wish to commune with the commander."

"He speaks to the one in command of the Normandy; and that would be you." It was almost laughable to hear this; for only traitors and plotters would switch sides this swiftly. "The briefing room on deck two, sir." I nodded as I left my brothers to return to their place, and boarded the lift once more.

It was amusing to see the first set of crew already at work. The Skitarius acting like a Techpriest overlooking the endless hordes of workers on a Forge World. He bowed his head as I passed. It was amusing how much the ship changed in less than a day; from idleness to a hive of activity. The inefficiencies would be ironed out in time, but in time these men and women will be the best chance against these 'Reapers'. The table whined as it lowered, almost as if it were waiting for me. My hand tensed around my staff; if this were a trap, the mortals would surly regret it. An orange grid surrounded me as I stepped onto the platform, each turning into a picture. A man in a suit sat in a chair in front of star, his posture was that of many Inquisitors; arrogant, and feeling of a false sense of power. "It's good we final have a chance to chat." He said taking a drag out of a lho-stick.

"And you must be the infamous 'Illusive Man'; if you wish to speak, do it in person." I growled.

He grinned when I said this. "I most certainly would, but we're half a galaxy away. And the quicker the assignments in Illium are concluded, the better." I found myself agreeing with him on this, as he took another drag from his lho-stick. "I have a proposition for you. I have the resources you need, and you have the abilities I need. In a galaxy full of terrors, we need each other."

"I already have what I need; a ship that could take me anywhere I need. I could acquire whatever I wish without your help. In truth, it sounds like you need me."

His smile widened. "You and Shepard are so alike when it comes to Cerberus. Unlike him however, you're right; you could become a god amongst men with your powers. Yet we see eye to eye; you want humanity to prosper, and so do I. And unlike everyone aboard that ship, I'll do what it takes. Miranda sent me those resources your Techpriest wanted, and a formal request to have him 'transferred' off the ship." Her actions did not surprise me, in fact I almost expected it. "I wouldn't mind whole legions of 'Skitarii', if it means we secure our place in the stars then so be it. Anything you want; nuclear weapons, test subjects, the best scientists in the galaxy, if you wanted a coup on Earth we'd do it. All I ask is for us to work together."

"Do you truly think I believe that you're wishing to work, merely because we agree with something? Do you take me for a fool?"

"My words won't prove anything; and it's wise to distrust me off the bat. What will it take to prove my sincerity?" He placed his lho-stick in a tray before grabbing a glass of amasec.

I pondered this; I could request anything to further our gains, but having more like minded, and experienced humans may help. "My Skitarii will produce a list of the lowest quality crew aboard this ship. They are to be replaced with the absolute best you have; scientists, engineers, and soldiers. Next, they are to be loyal only to me; they are to ignore all orders from anyone, but myself and those who serve me."

He took a swig of amasec, before showing his wide grin once more. "Done; you give me the names, and they'll be transferred. I wish you to know however that the current roster was fitted for Shepard's needs, to make him trust us more."

I let out a slight laugh. "He's no longer in command anymore. Is he not?"

The Illusive Man raised his glass as I spoke. "We'll keep in touch." And the images cut out.

It's clear that both of us need each other, but he shall become an instrument of my will; not the other way around.

* * *

As the image finally closed he could not but laugh at how well it went, in fact everything was now going as planned. "Get me Major Maxwell, and the 9th Shock Company. Also prep the Special Warfare research group."

"At once sir." His assistant responded.

This was to be a momentous occasion in fact. Decades of planning had led up to this, no centuries, perhaps even millennia. The Illusive Man's flesh crawled in ecstasy has the pieces fell in place one by one.

* * *

The ship was silent for hours as the crew worked. Be it on munitions or in the now rad soaked cargo bay. Oxian was placed in slightly higher mood when the first reports were sent by the Peltast. In fact, progress was rapid enough to warrant the Peltast to instruct the xeno, Mordin, on how to make an effective Arc Rifle. 'The cogs had begun to turn.' He thought to himself. #Status on the conversion?# He sent to his Tribune.

#Concluded: Armaments awaiting loading.#

#All Skitarii are permitted four hours of free work.#

#At once my lord.# All his Skitarii answered in unison. While he wished that they had followed their initial schedule the day prior, it could be improved. "Xeno, you are dismissed." He stated to the young Quarian.

She got up from cleaning one of the hotspots. "I was wondering…" Oxian turned his gaze toward the xeno, slightly freighting her. "Everything that you do. How, and why do you? Praying to machines, turning yourself into one-"

"To improve ourselves, to cast aside the weakness of flesh. And as I told you, 'A machine works as any mere organic works. As long as its body and mind are healthy.' Why are you seemingly entranced by something you could never comprehend?"

She seemingly braced herself. "Because I want to learn. You did something impossible; the Migrant Fleet is practically held together by omni-gel and wishful thinking."

"And why should I help a xeno to understand the machine?" Oxian scoffed.

"Because I'm willing to learn! Because-" The Techpriest pulled a large leather bound book from beneath his robes.

"It's the mantels of the Priesthood of Mars, you have twelve hours to recite the first two hundred pages by thought. And the sixteen commandments by heart. You do that, and I'll consider it." He turned to leave the xeno. "If there is a single tear in the pages, I'll kill you instead." The elevator sealed behind him, leaving Tali alone in the cargo bay.

She traced her hand on the sigil of the Mechanicum adorning the cover. Opening it revealed a first page solely of binary, luckily for her the following pages were readable. Though some terms were unable to be translated, frustrating her slightly. She activated her omni-tool, tempted to use pictures to cheat; but she stopped herself, knowing he'll know. Turning back to the page of binary, she began the distressing process of manually translating it.

* * *

Author's Notes: Hopefully I'll be able to get out the first part of the Illium arc 'soon'. I'm sorry I work slowly!

Guest: Unless the description has a big 'DISCONTINUED' I won't just leave this to the void.


	9. Chapter 8: A Hive of Lights and Blood

Chapter 8: A Hive of Lights and Blood

The streets of Tizca were remarkably easy to navigate; along with their perfect design, permitting one to see the ocean as much as possible. The great pyramids' refection of the sky at times made them seemingly non-existent unless one was looking for them. Mortals continued their daily tasks, going to and fro businesses and the occasional manufacturer of products rarely, if ever seen off of Prospero. Enlightened lives for an enlightened people.

"Brother!" Herumon yelled to grab my attention. "It is good to see you again."

"Likewise Khaldun. It is good to walk here once more…"

"After that sham." Herumon interrupted. Word of Nikea was on everyone's mind. 'The Sham of Nikea' perhaps that is what our history will remember it as.

"I do not disagree with that." I said

"Next they shall have it so we can't eat, or drink." Herumon laughed at his weak jest. "If they have it so the Wolves can no longer have their damnable pets, and their own weapons; they will know only a fragment of what we face." This even made me laugh slightly. I never truly despised the Wolves before this; and I don't doubt they shall keep Rune-Priests behind our backs. Yet Nikea made me distrust, and in some ways despise both them and the Death Guard.

Yet he was also wrong; nothing could compare to our choir of arcane might. We were not simple savages like many other legions, we were beyond their simple comprehension. To ask us not to master sorcery, was to ask us not to breath. I chose not to remind him of this.

I breathed in the rich Prosperan air, and how have I missed it. "How are the rest of our brothers handling it?" I asked.

"Nakanus, and Isador are the most livid of this. Khenti, and Terranis are attempting to keep spirits up. Laudren has been silent, secluding himself to work on the Canis Vertex along with many others in sixth fellowship." He reported.

My curiosity peaked at this. "It's odd that they're working on the titan that much. Normally it's simple maintenance and the like."

Herumon simply shrugged. "Perhaps that's how they cope. Until Magnus decrees something, we must follow the Emperor's own decree; shameful as it may be." We were silent for a moment. "I never asked, what was Ullanor like? I heard it was the most glorious of sights."

I looked towards the ocean. "It was beautiful brother. To see the might of humanity on display…" I was temporally lost, simply being one to represent one of our legion was perhaps the greatest honor of my life; only for that honor to be spat on at Nikea.

Herumon laughed. "Perhaps I shall let you relive that memory till you collapse in the street. You would become a true legend in the legion; 'The Sekhmet who fell in front of mortals, not in battle, but in a dream!'" I laughed at his jest.

"I've fought since Terra itself! I'm certain I would become a legend in every legion if that happened! Perhaps the Emperor himself will notice!" We continued laughing as we made our way through the streets.

We stopped laughing as we heard the mortals now speaking of Nikea. Perhaps Nikea would not simply affect us as a legion, but the people of the world. Psychic power was almost the only source of civilization on Prospero. "I truly hope this is temporary." I muttered.

"Most likely, after all the Imperium can't function without us." Herumon's reassurances set a tiny fragment of my mind at ease.

"I feel as if something horrible is going to happen. No, something colossal in scale."

Herumon shook his head. "I'm not one to argue with a Corvidae, but I should remind you; you have been wrong before."

We were silent as we arrived to the center of Tizca. Like the rest of the city it was more than simply pleasing, it was beautiful. The various shops and establishments were frequently visited not only by the many visitors of this world, but the occasional legionnaire as well. "Come brother, how long has it been since you've eaten Prosperan food, or drank her wine?" Herumon asked jokingly.

"You are aware we stock those onto our ships. But it has still felt for far too long." I responded. "Yet again you would have forgotten seeing how rarely you leave Prospero these days!" I teased him, earning me a slight chuckle from my friend.

"Our brothers will be joining us soon." Herumon stated; I nodded, happy to see my non-Sekhmet brothers once more.

* * *

It was eerily silent for this night cycle; most nights had the occasional group who ends up rather boisterous, but now the third deck was that of utter silence. "Goddamn this hurts." Shepard turned around to see Jack, now on crutches. "Fucking assholes."

"Good to see you up at least." Shepard said.

She scoffed at his words. "Yeah, and no one will tell me how long I'll be crippled. Go figure. I'm going back to my little hole, and I swear to god if anyone tries to stop me."

It was difficult not to laugh internally at how even in her state, at how she's still the same person. Just when he was about to leave he saw the three Skitarii leave the elevator with Grunt, who nodded to him as they walked to the med-bay. Choosing instead to watch them, he sat back down at the mess table. The Tribune, and Peltast held the shoulders of the Krogan as the Ranger prepped a series of tools and a robotic limb that was similar to their own. With little preparation, the Ranger cut open Grunt's arm stump causing him to roar in pain. Shepard sprinted over to the door, only to see it locked; he could on helplessly listen to the Krogan's roars. She placed the cybernetic arm at the base of the stump, and connected fine wires to his nerve endings. He continued to roar, but either thankfully or horribly his biology refused to allow him to fall unconscious for such 'minor' agony. He fought against his restrainers, gaining no headway against them. "Almost, foul xeno." The Ranger said without any concern or compassion. In fact it sounded more like she was enjoying playing with the Krogan's nerves in painful ways. The arm balled into a fist, and attempted to swing against the Ranger. "We're done." Upon saying this, the Tribune used his Maul to render the Krogan finally unconscious. She sealed the incision with sutures.

They left the Krogan on the table. "Hey!" Shepard called out, stopping the elevator before it closed. "What the hell was that about?"

"Our orders." They spoke in unison, with their varying tones making it a cacophony of noise. "The xeno can now go into battle once more." The elevator door sealed; marking their last task complete.

* * *

It was now almost strange without EDI, despite having no love for the machine; it broke the monotony of being alone in the cockpit. A series of whirls and clanks was heard behind him, he silently glanced at the Techpriest. Oxian's prying gaze analyzed each of the holographic consoles, before staring out into the void of space. He was seemingly stuck in thought for the next five minutes before turning to Joker. "It's odd in its silence." He said cryptically. "No hum of a Gellar field, no roar of plasma engines, and no creeks of the stalking metal. How do you work in such conditions?"

Joker swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking. "It's always quiet, other than EDI awhile back-"

"This 'VI'" Oxian interrupted. "Why have it in the first place? Would other personnel serving under you be too difficult?"

He wished he could hit himself for blurting out about EDI, but at least the Techpriest believed it was a VI. "Yeah, other people just get in my way. It's easier without someone always saying 'Adjust heading by' all the time. I know the Normandy, she's like a nice set of legs for me."

Oxian looked at the pilot, before laughing at the simple idea to merge him with the ship. "Are you ok?" Joker asked, unsettled by his cackling.

The cackling slowly ceased. "Yes, I'm fine, just an idea I had." Joker's worried expression never changed. While with the Astartes you could guess they would just kill you from their lenses; with the Techpriest, it looked more as if he would experiment on you in an increasingly sadistic fashion. "How much longer until we arrive?"

"Six hours, if I know Illium we'll land in the major trading district; so it will most likely be midday-ish." Oxian nodded, despite the unneeded data, it gave him time to plan their final preparations. "Hey, gotta ask; what did you do to the engines? The Normandy's been running smoother."

"'Something impossible'" He simply quoted the Quarian as he left, leaving the pilot alone once more in the silence.

* * *

Tali had hastily created a makeshift desk out of a couple of crates near the engine; carefully turning page after page, reading each line, and taking in the almost primitive in style sketches and diagrams. It was one of the most intriguing and frustrating moments of her life. Despite the time that was forced upon her; every line, every quote, and every diagram was in some ways 'beautiful'. The simple idea of the 'machine spirit' would be absurd, but yet it was just a half metaphor for the wellbeing of a piece of equipment; yet at the same time it was also a reality. From temperamental 'titans' to humble spirits within a rifle. It was an endless philosophy that has been tested for far over 15,000 years. Yet that raised another question; why would they address dates such as '805.M30: Treaty of Olympus.'? While it's obvious that it means 30,805 in human dating; but that simply can't be right, the Asari discovered the citadel only 2,765 years ago. There's no reference to Protheans, or any race for that matter. Perhaps it was a simple inconsistency, or perhaps something far greater. "'Understanding is the True Path to Comprehension', and 'Comprehension is the key to all things.'" Tali muttered to herself, quoting two of the commandments to express her frustration. Her Omni-tool blinked to show how much time had already ticked down; eight hours left, and she still had not even begun on the latter half of what was required. Her vision continued to narrow and darken as the timer continued to slowly tick down.

* * *

The Rubric Marines took their new weapons, and in the eyes of the Skitarii who presented the Heavy Stubbers to them; they took them with a sense of disgrace. A bolter is more than a mighty weapon, it's a symbol; a sign of humanities might, resourcefulness, and tenacity. And any weapon wielded by a Thousand Son was a beautifully crafted relic. Taking great care to ensure not a single blemish appears on their watch, they placed them into specifically cleaned crates; each weapon had its' own, and was stored with its' ammunition. To the Sorcerer it was an amusing sight. To see the care associated with loyalists, being used on 'traitors.' "Oxian, how much long till we arrive?"

He turned to his lord before speaking with a bow. "An hour, my lord. The crew should be awakening shortly." He reported.

With a nod he spoke once more. "With your report, and the data on what this world is. I don't trust the lambs whom reside on that rock."

"Without a doubt, my lord." Oxian spoke out. "The cowardly xenos will quake at the simple sight of us." He turned to his Skitarii, still diligent with their work. "Shamefully unlike the _creatures_ aboard this vessel." He added with a mutter.

It was heard clearly by the Outcast, much to Oxian's intent. "Do you think I enjoy these fools any more than you?" He spoke with a sigh. "Do you think I would rather be with my pupils, my brothers, Lord Ahriman? Do you honestly think I wouldn't sacrifice them all to return? We're stuck here, best we can do is adapt. And right now, Shepard and the souls on this ship, are our only potential predictable allies."

"But the xenos? None of them are of any concern-"

"They're one in the same! Even than the xenos have proved to be worthy pawns!" He snapped, a small surge of psychic energy caused the air to grow deathly cold as the fabric of reality nearly split. He straightened himself, and spoke far more calmly. "Fear not my friend. All I ask is for your patience. Everything will fall before us; you'll see, have faith. When have I ever led you astray?"

Oxian almost scoffed at his master's words. "That you are correct about, my lord. Personally however; your assurances leave me cold."

"We have a new 'ally', untrustworthy of course, but an ally none the less. If needed, he's more than eager to betray Shepard. Hence why Shepard is our 'predictable' ally; him and his xenos. Yet this 'Illusive Man' is far too eager to side with us, even close friends to the legion are not that swift to side with us. He's guided by another motive, and I intend to find out what that is."

"Are you referring to your pact with the world of Cyrene when you mention 'friends of the legion'?"

"How did you…" The Sorcerer stammered with his words.

Oxian looked at his lord, extending himself too nearly over the height of a Terminator. "Apologies, lord. Documents are scarce, I assumed-"

He looked up into Oxian's lenses. "It was my overextension that lead to that; I will speak nothing more on this. And you will not mention of this again."

Oxian didn't lower himself. "Of course; regardless, this doesn't change the fact that we must soon act. Lest we condemn ourselves to a single course."

"No, we simply don't have enough information. And now the Ocean is shifting even as we speak, a tempest gathers, and we are blind. Yet we're going to a hive world that may have fallen into disarray, perhaps even Chaos." Speculation was amidst their ranks; Oxian had ordered his Tribune to monitor every communication from and to Miranda, and yet they've learnt nothing. Being blind was one thing that was uncharacteristic of the Thousand Sons, and now they face a new foe on an alien world. "All we can do now is play our parts; and hope we do not fail." The Sorcerer sighed, as the sound of treads ground against the steel floor.

* * *

Illium's structures provided little cover to the police force as they were ambushed by humans wearing an odd blood red armor. The loud bark of their rifles tore through what little armor they had as if it was nothing. By the time they turned their weapons toward their aggressors they faced their pale fleshed foes, already storming their position. Shocks, which should have been more than capable to drop a drunk Krogan, sent via their Omni-tools did little but cause them to smile in absolute bliss. They skewered, and gutted the Asari; relishing every single drop of blood they shed.

One officer attempted to crawl away. She screamed into her radio for any possible help. A boot stamped down onto her leg, causing her to yelp in sheer agony. Her assailant wore what seemed to be a comedy mask, barely hiding his ecstatic grin and psychotic red eyes. He brought his bloody bayonet up, ready to stab over and over until she was nothing but a pulp. What little energy she had left was used to push him away with a wave of biotic might. He was forced back into his comrades, who merely laughed as they were knocked down like a stack of cards. Every one of the humans turned their gaze unto her, like some Varren pack to a wounded herbivore. They drew what seemed to be more ceremonial, rusted blades.

A giant crimson beast pushed past them, nearly throwing one off the Illium skyscraper. It was like a god, its' emerald lenses looked at her judgingly. It raised an axe that bellowed black smoke as it roared, it's spinning blades forever hungry. It was a god, just like the old Asari legends; a true god of death. Her world faded with the rending of her skull, and the laughter of the madmen.

* * *

"We're making our final approach, commander." Joker said to Shepard, the Astartes had already gathered near the airlock. The Skitarii forming a vanguard, supported by two of the crew carrying a heavy machine gun. Shepard hoped to himself that they're only acting this way due to Miranda's report, for this would be a PR hell if they did this at the citadel.

Rubric Marines had their weapons held as if it was a parade; shouldered, and holding the butt of the weapon. Long ammo belts were already loaded, and their magazines held on magnetically at their belts. It was like an old recruitment commercial; heavily armed and armored soldiers waiting for battle, only that they're human features are almost completely removed. Leaving lifeless automatons in their place. "Commander." The Outcast called out, his energy pistol already drawn, its' vents glowing a shade of orange. "Get your entire team ready."

It was odd that he would ask for everyone now. "Why? Surly it would be better with just us until we're certain about the situation?" He asked in response. "Merely a suggestion of course." He added in order to not push his luck with the Sorcerer.

The Astartes looked up, as if breathing in some scent. "Can you not feel it?" He spoke cryptically.

"Feel what exactly?"

"The Ocean, it is alive here. Can you not hear their voices? The voices of those dead and dying as we speak, the scent of blood with it?" It was unsettling how he spoke; his normal, almost furious voice, was replaced by a sonorous calm one only describable as a wine. "Of course you don't. You don't know this fine feeling. To feel absolute power once more." He produced a slight laugh. "The winds of magic flow again, Shepard."

His cryptic answer didn't help at all, but it was still somewhat unsettling. "I'll gather up _my_ team." He responded, activating his Omni-tool and sending a ping to everyone but Jack.

It wasn't long before they were all lounging about, almost a stark contrast the rigid ranks on the other side of the narrow corridor. "Where's Tali?" Shepard asked his team after taking a headcount of those present.

Upon asking this, the Techpriest turned towards him. He let out a disgruntled sigh, not making it clear whom he was disappointed towards. "Engineering I think." Zaeed responded gruffly. Shepard swiftly left, exchanging a glance with the unflinching Astartes ranks.

"Disappointing." Oxian spoke to his lord over their newly established vox link. "I had a slight hope for the xeno. Yet I gave its failure chance a 90%." What audibly emitted from the Techpriest was a series of clicks as the transmission began and ended.

"I'm simply shocked you gave the xeno a chance in the first place." His lord responded.

Indeed, Tali was near her station, still fast asleep. "What do we have here?" Shepard jokingly asked, hoping that it might have roused her from her sleep. It didn't; upon approaching her, he noticed the thick leather book resting open nearby.

The page was mostly occupied by a form of the Vitruvian Man. Instead it was half machine, its left arms and legs being replaced seemingly by clockwork. 'At least I wasn't that bad' He poorly joked to himself.

He shook Tali's arm, causing her to groan like a child. "No, no." She began to mutter. "You don't understand. Everything organic is basically machinery. Tendons instead of pistons; flesh in place of steel; and blood is like a coolant. Denying it is just simple idiocy." Shepard almost froze at this, to think that Tali of all people would become one of those monstrosities. It was disheartening; no, it was terrifying.

"Come on, we're arriving at Illium soon." Shepard stated as her glowing eyes slowly opened behind the mask. She clumsily grabbed the book, and began to stagger out; muttering incomprehensible references to machinery. As the second door automatically opened, leaving him alone in the control room, he slammed his fist against a wall. Furious about the corruption they're spreading amongst his friends.

* * *

"ECMs are flaring up! Why the hell are they targeting us?!" Joker yelled, causing the Techpriest to move into the cockpit to analyze the situation more thoroughly. "This is the SSV Normandy, do not fire! I say again, do not fire! We're friendly for fucks sake!" He spoke into the radio transmitter. "What the fuck's going on?"

With an extension of his many mechadendrites, Oxian accessed the Normandy's innumerable complex systems. The machine's roar became a choir once again, as the human mind assisted the machine spirits in their task. Anti-ship weapons systems lost their target as the countermeasures went to work with increased efficiency. The Normandy would have taken a minute to be locked onto regardless, but now it was completely invisible to the automated defenses. The transmitter activated, showing the face of a uniformed Asari officer "SSV Normandy, this is Illium control. No idea how you got this far, but I shouldn't be complaining. Sending coordnates for a landing port in Nos Astra, just…" Yelling could be heard, shortly afterwards a volley of gunfire and explosions joined the chaos. "Land as soon as possible, we need-" The transmission was prematurely cut off.

"Time until landing?" The Outcast calmly asked, a contrast to the concern shown on most of Shepard's team.

"A minute." Joker responded, focused solely on flying the Normandy to insure they don't take any fire. In perfect synchronization, the Astartes grabbed their weapons bipods and prepared them at the hip. Their ammo belts were set alight in a cold, green flame. Plasma Calivers were loaded, their blue coils began to glow furiously as the Skitarii aimed them at the door.

The Normandy shook as the docking clamps extended and locked. Shepard arrived behind Tali. Then the door slid open, revealing an armored humanoid. The Skitarii pushed forward, tackling the individual and aiming their calivers forward as if clearing a room. Shepard was about to try to defuse the situation, only to be pushed aside by the Astartes surging forward through the breach.

Asari officers readied their weapons, only to drop them in sheer awe of the stalwart Rubricae. The Peltast shoved the tackled Asari toward their awe stricken ranks. Shepard moved past them once ranks had been formed, and now stood between the two parties.

* * *

The creatures that opposed us were, vile, to put it lightly. Asari appeared to be far more disgusting in person than any image I've seen. "Everyone let's just calm down." Shepard spoke, now standing in the firing line. I bit my tongue; oh how I wished to slaughter these disgusting beasts.

Warp fire grew in my hand; with no pain, or even effort in fact. A few of the Asari had dropped their weapons, and knelt before us. I had assumed that this was their way of expressing to have mercy, but yet there was little fear in their empty minds; only hope. "Disgusting." I spoke into the vox.

Oxian joined us behind Shepard's team. "I'm glad we agree on that. My Skitarii await your orders." He reported.

Psychically, I ordered my Rubricae to lower their weapons. The action was mimicked by the xenos, and permitted Shepard a sigh of relief. "How..." An Asari stammered with its words. "How did you get past the bastion's defensive grid?" It asked.

"I'll answer only once we know what's going on." Shepard asked, calmly as not to aggravate our xeno 'hosts'.

The xeno captain gestured for us to follow. "I'll explain at our command post. Stay close, and avoid contact with the civilians. I can't say how eager they are to leave enough." I noticed that less than half of the assembled xenos faced us, but most faced the people of the wretched hive. This was to be expected; when a hive falls, the mortals within become the greatest threat.

With an animalistic roar, a Krogan pushed past the enforcer line; the lack of armor made the creature seem far less 'impressive' than a specimen such as Grunt. Without being ordered, Peltast-12 raised his caliver and fired a shot. Melting its hide, and reducing its bone to ash before a mortal could blink. "Oxian, have your Skitarii fortify the ship. No one will cross that line alive." I ordered. With a noospheric command, the Ranger and Peltast took command. They ordered the mortal crew to grab crates to build makeshift barricades, and positions for heavy stubbers. We moved forward, and the enforcers parted the crowd. Much to my pleasure, a Salarian used the opportunity to make an advance toward the Normandy. The xeno must not have seen what happened to the Krogan, but before the Skitarii could act our Krogan proved himself. His new cybernetic arm grabbed the cowardly xeno by the neck, and hurled him back. Though either accidently or intentionally; he threw the xeno into the back wall, shattering its spine. I had to contain an urge to merely laugh, and simply nodded at the quick and desired action. Shepard and his team stopped, and stared at Grunt; who all the while was smiling at his new prosthetic, the metal limb being reshaped to be similar to that of a Krogan. Much to the dismay of my Mechanicum allies.

"What the hell Grunt?" Shepard pushed past Garrus, grabbing the Krogan by the shoulders. It was clear it was merely to stop him; as if Shepard tried anything he would get himself killed.

"What?" He shrugged, once again amusing me. It was odd to see that of all the xenos, Grunt is showing to be the most useful and moldable; almost like a misguided Wolf.

Reaching out, I grabbed Shepard's right arm. "Now is not the time; and besides, he performed what was required of him." Shepard snarled slightly; if it were anymore, I would not have hesitated of throwing him off this hive spire.

"Shepard…" Garrus spoke up, causing Shepard to restrain himself. It was clear that his mindset, and morals were clouded; he wanted to lash out and try to kill me, but he's a soldier in his entirety. A situation I'm feeling now, especially with the surrounding whores of xenos.

Releasing him, he turned back to the officer and continued following it. An automatic door opened, showing a large open 'plaza' on top of the spires. It showed a far more impressive view of the hive, yet again I'm uncertain if this classifies as a hive. The structures glistened for kilometers in the sun. Spires stood tall, but not in the fashion of hives; with the largest tower acting as a 'spine', that the structures only grow smaller outwardly. What xenos did not gather at the Normandy merely acted as if nothing was happening. Exchanging rumors, even trade deals, and the occasional shocked glance at us.

Disgustingly, it seemed every xeno race was present on this world. A squatted suited xeno, large bovine like xenos, hideous xenos with razor sharp teeth and immolated flesh, amoeba like creatures that glowed various colors, by the Ocean so many. How they've lasted this long together is a curiosity in itself. Another door opened, showing two white constructs; similar to the geth, but far more humanoid. A red zero forming their 'face'. Oxian was immediately fixated on them, probing them like some primitive doctor with his servo arms. "Is something wrong with your robot?" The officer arrogantly asked.

"Watch your tongue xeno." The Tribune flared up, standing at his Techpriest's side. "You dare insult an honored Techpriest of the Thousand Sons." He continued speaking in monotone, pushing the activation rune on his arc maul.

Flaring blue, the Asari pointed its' human like finger at the Tribune. "Listen, I've dealt with worse people than you when I'm in a good mood! And I'm not in a good mood, I've lost eight fucking people in the last thirty minutes! So how about you fuck off with that shit! Go ahead, make my day!" The aura around the xeno prompted the Tribune to draw his arc pistol in a single swift action.

Balling its' hand into a fist it prepared a biotic assault. "Enough!" I yelled, raising my hand and turning the xeno into a puppet. A string of psychic energy connected to each of my fingers, a simple movement to rend each limb from its torso. It hovered above the ground, feeling the eldritch energy wrapping around it. "I will not permit you to threaten my followers! Luckily for you I'm forgiving enough to forget this slight, for now." I stared into its terrified eyes, unable to grasp the pain I could eagerly inflict upon it. Released, it gasped for air. Jacob, and Garrus rushed over to help her up. Their expressions showed a sense of fear, even though I've read that biotics can do the same; just far weaker.

"What's the meaning of this? My assistant-" Another Asari exited the door, its eyes darkened and tone showing stress. "My assistant… By the goddess." It sprinted and embraced Shepard, the reaction permitted me to know what xeno this was; Shepard's little whore.

"Liara!" Shepard exclaimed, overjoyed to see his pet xeno again.

"Good to see you again, Liara." Garrus added.

"Tali'Zorah." Oxian called out before she could speak. "Assist me in this matter." His lascutters began to make a precise way into the machine's chest. "The main core of this automaton will be useful in future projects."

The Quarian turned between the two parties. "Good to see you Tali." Liara said, causing Tali to nod and proceed to Oxian. The Asari faced me before muttering. "Extraordinary." And turning back to Shepard. "Could you follow me to my office?"

Shepard nodded, and gestured for Garrus to follow. "Is that wise?" I asked. "We should learn the situation, before we follow your… Desires." My statement earning a snicker from Zaeed.

Before Shepard could object, Liara spoke. "I could give you a more in depth view than the Lieutenant here." I would have been lying to myself if I said I wasn't happily surprised at Liara; while still loathing the creature of course.

"See what you can gather, we'll brief everyone in a bit." Shepard spoke to everyone in his team but Garrus. An illogical action once again, it was clear he wanted to spend time with the xeno. Yet they nodded and dispersed. I stood resolute with my Rubricae, staring out at the Illium cityscape. I knew I was being observed; but by what, I could not say.

* * *

The target was eleven kilometers away; an easy shot, but the Sorcerer could perform an endless list of actions to stop the round. Even if he wanted the round to make contact, it was not a going to be certain penetration. Never turning his sight from the target, he adjusted his cloak. Another explosion rocked the building. Marking another trap gone before the building would be overrun. He looked down at the sieging xenos. Deducing the officer amongst them, a Turian wearing blue armor. A single shot was fired, exploding the upper torso of the xeno; the blue viscera caused multiple of its followers to flee. Looking at the Sorcerer again, he noticed that one Rubric Marine looked directly at his position.

* * *

Liara took a seat at her desk. "I'm glad you're here, but what are you doing here? This isn't exactly the best of times."

"We were here to recruit a couple more for our team, but it seems there's more pressing matters now." Shepard stated.

Placing her head in her hands with a sigh, gathering her thoughts on this situation. "Three days, that's all it took. Originally it was a food riot, than mercenaries fighting one another in the streets, and now Illium's defense grid. The Normandy is the first ship to land in two days, and in those two days we've been cut off."

"Cut off?" Garrus asked.

"Illium's food reserves are in government facilities, in the middle city. We no longer own those. The police force, contractors, and the like are all that stands between us and the madmen in the undercity. We're going to start to starve before long, and collapse from within." Liara explained the situation.

"How many zones are still secured?" Shepard's voice was filled with concern, nothing like this was normal.

"Thirteen, all are constantly under attack."

They were silent for a moment. Shepard stood up and looked at the Astartes, and Techpriest. They were unfazed as they looked out, perhaps even eager to go down there. "How can we help?" Shepard asked.

"You can't consider-"

Liara was cut off by Shepard. "We have enough firepower to do what it takes."

"You don't understand." Liara began. "Anyone who goes down there is not the same. Some of my informants have gone from emotionally dull, to insane."

"And if we don't go and do something, everyone dies!"

"Perhaps they know something about this." Garrus suggested. "After all, this seems to be their field of expertise."

Liara swiveled her chair to look at the gathered Legionaries. "Perhaps, it's just that… Do you know what you're traveling with, Shepard?"

* * *

Tali took the core with exceptional care, muttering a small prayer to the LOKI mech. "What the hell are you doing?" An armored human in yellow armor stepped forward, hand placed on a carnifex pistol. "Do you know how important those things are? Fucking idiot! Hey, I'm talking to you!" His words directed toward the Techpriest.

"Silence, you fool. This is a delicate process, and you are not helping." Oxian dismissively responded.

The human turned to Tali, reaching for the mech's core. "Give that to me, you scavenger shit!" The Tribune brought his Arc Maul down onto the merc's arm, breaking it in a single swipe.

"You will not interfere with the Mechanicum's affairs." The Tribune spoke as the merc moved back, screaming in agony. Tali was thankful of the Skitarius's action, but she now knew full well that was their duty.

"Lord Oxian." Tali spoke respectfully, dismissive of the merc's agony; hoping to somehow impress the Techpriest with her disregard.

"Speak."

"The deadline approaches for my trial."

"That it does; in two hours and fifty two minutes."

Tali was happy that he didn't jump immediately to her trial. "I doubt we would have much time in the near future. Seeing how we're about to undergo a mission. So I was wondering if we could push the test to now."

Oxian looked at Tali in the eyes, if he could he would smile at this. "I'm appalled that you came to that conclusion."

"It's inefficient otherwise." She stated.

* * *

Shepard came out to speak with us. Respectfully he asked me to speak with his little pet. I was half tempted to decline, but we were surrounded by the prying eyes of too many xenos. I followed him, paying little attention to the xenos moving to and fro with reports. We entered a decent sized room, a window with a remarkable view took up the entire back wall; a perfect sniper shot could kill anyone within. "An absolute honor to meet you." Her words were directed at me.

"Save your honor, harlot. I don't consort with Slaaneshi swine, such as your race." I growled.

She was shocked by my venomous outburst. "Apologies… Shepard tells me you can assist with our current situation."

"Fire and sword is all I can offer."

"Unless you're willing to kill eighty five million people, I don't think that's an option." She spoke calmly, and with little knowledge on how willing I'd be to bring them to the torch. "I have a theory that this is far greater than simple unrest, meaning it would have had an origin."

"And do you have any proof? Do not waste my time on this nonsense!" I growled.

She sighed. "That's why I need your brief assistance." Activating her omni-tool she brought up several images. "During the first day, the Prothean museum was stormed by an unknown force. It was retaken in a bloody fight, we're still barely holding it. Regardless, they defiled the museum; and painted strange markings, could you by chance identify them?" Stone, and metallic 'artwork' were sprayed with blood; the blood of innumerable xenos being used as a paint in hands of a child.

Each was indeed a character, the runes on my armor were of the same tongue; the tongue of the neverborn. "It's a ritual."

"A ritual?" Garrus asked, a mixture of confusion and horror filling his voice.

Chaos was an ever-present force in the galaxy; forming gods and pantheons of savage races, and uneducated humans. So it did not surprise me to see this among the xenos. It would also explain the nature of the Warp here. I looked at the pictures again, a large crate stood at the back of the museum; a section left largely undefiled. "What is that?" I pointed it out.

"Most believe it's a tomb of some kind." Liara hastily explained. "Do you have any ideas on how to solve this?"

"Cut the head off. If we slay the preacher, no one will hear the gods. Unless it has already rooted itself into your world; then you've already lost."

"Sadly, no one matches a description such as that."

"Then you've lost. Best we can do destroy their advantage, and hope you're worthwhile enough to receive assistance. Or wait and die, you choose your fate." I looked at the images once more. "Perhaps if I study the markings in person, I could narrow down whom the prophet may be."

They nodded, before the Asari turned to me. "I can arrange a runner to guide you."

"A runner?" Shepard inquired.

"Supplies have to be scavenged, or traded with other safe zones. That's their job, they know Illium now like no one else."

"Good." I muttered. "The anti-ship weapons; we shall have to silence them, but I doubt a system such as that would be as simple as a few explosives."

The Asari typed a few keys on her terminal. After a few moments of waiting, a few images appeared. "Most of the system is automated, luckily that means if you take out the nexus; most of the guns will stop working. Only problem is that in fifteen minutes, the system reboots."

"Scrap code. If Oxian uses a form of scrap code he'll shut the whole system down." I suggested, earning a surprised expression from Shepard. "If possible we could use the Normandy to airdrop him, and the Skitarii with a clear landing zone; and while the weapons are temporally rebooting."

"That could work." The three of them spoke simultaneously.

"I would have expected nothing less from an esteemed house such as yours." Said Liara.

What in the Warp was she talking about? "Esteemed house? Xeno, I am not some noble of a feudal world. If that's your attempt at flattery, I'll cut you down before you can say your own name." Shepard, and Garrus shot me an arrogant look as I said this; displeased that I threatened their 'friend'.

"Than what do you know about the Protheans?"

Growing increasingly annoyed at the vague questioning, I snapped. "If you have a point get to it! Before I take it from you!"

She entered a contemplative state. "Actually, I'm intrigued now." Garrus spoke up. "You mentioned his heraldry, or insignia whatever; but it's familiar from my-"

"Because the markings, it's of a Turian house." She interrupted. Of course these xenos endlessly correlate with us; food, now our very markings. It's pathetic really. "An old influential family, one that many assume is extinct. House Magnus-"

I felt my psychic energy flare at that, how dare they not only steal my Primarch's name, but say it in such a trivial manner. Magnus is either loved or scorned by his sons; and I shall never forgive him for leaving us. "But for us Asari and the Protheans, it means-" A buzzing noise emanated from the xeno's terminal. Upon activating it, she stood up and exclaimed. "By the goddess!" A hint of fear could be seen behind her eyes, she kept such emotions well hidden; aside from her outburst. The xeno was as professional as an Inquisitor, I'll give her that.

"What's wrong?" Shepard tensed up at Liara's sudden outcry.

"They've gotten through!" She exclaimed, and I couldn't help but smile; a distraction from this pathetic moment.

* * *

In a staggered withdrawal, the security forces retreated from their posts. It was effective, as they claimed scores of the revolting underlings. Yet as the last of their posts were overrun the situation became clear.

They were surrounded. Fleeing to other hard points would cut them off, and a second layer of defenses had yet to be established. Worst of all was that their ammunition was abandoned, now held by those who wished to butcher them.

"Your orders captain?" Men cried out like lost children, knowing that they were not HIS men. He was speechless, perhaps the wisest decision was mad; but the losses they would take. Simple men simply did not appreciate his craft.

"Captain Morozov; report. What's the situation?" Another voice called, an Asari officer that he would spit at; who was she to command from an ivory tower, and not with us mud trodden soldiers?

"Heavy losses to security forces. I still have three squads to spearhead an assault." He reported. They were mercenaries, from the deepest undercities. And without publicly bragging, the line has been held by them, and them alone. They'd all seen what these 'madmen' do to their victims, yet it didn't faze them. "Equip chemical gear." He ordered to his men.

They opened aluminum canisters, and pulled out archaic black masks. The small unit was wanted in council space, restricting their business to the Terminus systems. All the better, for how else should they do their job? Lose men, what a savage concept.

The amber lenses on their masks cut into the fleeing forces. "Brace." Upon his order, they moved into position. M-99s, and N7 Valkyries pointed down range.

"You are to hold until reinforcements arrive."

"Arrogant bitch." Morozov muttered to himself, spitting out his cigarette. "This is a target rich environment, is it not?" He spoke jokingly to his men, earn a series of muffled laughs. Upon raising his hand grenade launchers joined the braced weapons. Clenching his hand into a fist, the launchers roared. Grenades detonating into a thick yellow cloud. A few luckily managed to go through the gas, be it timing or respirators saving them from the potent nerve agent. "That will hold them." And besides, any that get through will simply be cut down in their gun line.

He knew these 'madmen', they used to be drinking partners and the like. They were not mad, just 'over-confident'. "Who are we?!" He yelled out, knowing that those sane would flee at their unflinching nature.

"Red Forest!" His men cried out.

"And what is our duty?!" He cried out again.

"To rid the world of scum! By any means, nothing will stop us in our triumphant march towards saving the planet!"

"OORAH!" They all cried out. Despite their masks, the message was clear. How many corpse will it take before they fall?

* * *

The lift moved at a painfully slow pace. Yet again, the Normandy's seemed to be running faster. The cargo lift ferried not only the entirety of the Astartes, but Shepard's team as well; with the exception of Tali, who stayed with Oxian to guard the Normandy.

Aside from a few jokes from Zaeed, and Grunt's boredom; the group slipped into a professional state. Whatever this world would have in store for them they were about to see. 'A battlefield unlike any other.' Those words circled in Shepard's mind. Did he see this somehow? The idea was absurd, but everything the Sorcerer says and does is absurd. Perhaps it was a coincidence, a mentioning to the Reapers, and then this happened.

The door slid open, showing police and mercs reorganizing; the lighting was slowly beginning to fail, leaving natural light to be the main source from warehouse windows. A smoky haze filled the room, ventilation had also begun to fail as a few mercs smoked in a somber state. Boxes of thermal clips being rationed. A triage center showed roughly thirty wounded, crude bandages showing that even medi-gel was running low. Two oddly clad mercs took a crate containing a missile launcher, and sprinted out with little opposition. Clad in a forest green, baggy rubber suits worn over a standard hardsuit. Additional armor plates were added to their chest, and lower legs. Most notably however was the domed helmet, and black mask. Almost like a mixture of 20th century, and modern equipment. In fact, they seemed to share the brutal design philosophy of the Astartes, and their minions. "You must be Shepard! Heard you were coming." A female Human yelled, clad in the blue armor of the Suns. "Listen we don't have a lot of time, so I'll make this brief." She gestured him over to a hologram of the city block. Other officers of various mercenary, and private organizations were gathered around. Some looked at the Astartes in the darkened environment with a sense of wonder. The Blue Sun simply coughed in order to get their attention back.

"I'll only go over this once. Strongpoint 'Hells Gate' has been overrun. If we don't retake it soon, we won't make it over the night. The three buildings." Three towers glowed orange for emphasis, each were connected by a single bridge like road. "The sooner we move, the less dug in they'll be. So, each of our groups have a building. Red Forest will push center, Eclipse will push the left building, Blue Suns with the Illium PD and Shepard's team will push right. We have to be fast, once word that a breach as spread; they'll be on us like Varren."

Everyone nodded, grim-faced they looked at one another. For many this will be their last fight. They all knew that this was survival at this point. "I don't think I have enough Eclipse left for this though." Another Asari began to speak. "I only have twenty left, seven of which are wounded. Even if we secure the building, something I doubt; we can't possibly hold it."

"We shall take it." The Sorcerer abruptly stated, causing many to turn to their colossal presence. "My brothers can easily storm the structure and clear it. These 'Eclipse' shall assist this 'Red Forest' band."

"I'd think we'd take less losses by attacking the left building." She growled back

"Then you're a foolish whore." The Astartes voice dripped with venom.

The Blue Sun tapped the table. "Ten of you? How can you-"

"They can do it." Shepard interrupted. "Trust me, they can easily retake the building."

She sighed. "Fine, but the fact is if they fail we'll be surrounded and slaughtered. So I'll be sure you're the first to go down slowly and painfully, Shepard." He was unfazed by the threat. "Eclipse will assist us in our assault."

"Why not help the Red Forest? Surely they'd be undermanned?" Zaeed inquired abruptly, hatred of his old merc group hidden in his gaze.

"Their esoteric in their tactics." She simply stated. An alarm on her Omni-tool flared. "Let's move it people!"

With buildings obscuring the Red Forest line, little wind blew the gas. Permitting the field to be saturated for a little bit longer. Thermal images painted an outline of their foe. Shots from M-99 Sabers cut through the gas, hitting waiting berserkers. Morozov made a note on his Omni-tool to order a few Revenants, yet again situations like this never happen. It was a nice break from the standard 'gas them out, and snipe those who flee' monotony, but that was their doctrine. 'Deviations are a pain in the ass to put it bluntly' as he would put it. "A nerve agent? I'm amazed no one else is smart enough to use such weaponry." A wine like voice emerged from behind him.

"Thank you, no one appreciates such a simplistic thing. Gas, cheaper than thermal clips at times."

"It's also random; I prefer order in battle, it's far more predictable."

Without turning he continued. "You just have to know the gas like any gun. How heavy is it? How much does the wind kick it around? How long it takes to paralyze a man? Simple things, I know that X-10 like a sniper knows a Mantis."

"It's also inelegant and not thorough, a false sense of security can occur and an ambush as a result."

Morozov simply laughed. "Normally people say 'Oh what about their pain and suffering?' I simply laugh, dead men don't suffer in the end."

His guest began to laugh slightly as well. "It's good to see someone with some sense."

"Hey, I can say the same thing." He turned to face who he was talking to, the Astartes gave him a sudden fright. "Jesus man, I doubt we have anything to get through that!" He crudely commented on the ornate power armor. "And we're the best equipped bastards here!"

"You ready?" The Eclipse leader butted into their conversation. Walking in front of the advancing mortals.

Morozov waved his hand dismissively, his mask obscuring his smirk. "Yes, yes. Now can you go away? I was having a conversation here!"

"Sorry Morozov, but I plan on sleeping tonight without getting impaled. So do your fucking job!"

"Oh sorry princess, pissed off that you're getting out shown by a 'minor' organization. Cry me a river, and let us do our jobs!" Morozov responded, frustration toward the Asari filling his voice.

"Why is this called 'Hells Gate'?" The Astartes asked, causing Morozov to turn his attention toward his 'guest' once more.

"We, as in my company alone, blew the other land routes. Making this the only passage. Many disagree, but we don't have enough people to hold more than one gate. And it's 'hell' out there, so 'Hells gate'; Mira came up with that, she's a good sergeant." He pulled up his mask, revealing a series of scars across his round pale face and dead green eyes. Bringing a flask up to his lips before sighing after his drink. He must have been roughly in his fifties, perhaps early sixties. "I swear, this isn't hell. Hell would have drinks, and prostitutes. At least my hell anyway."

The Astartes could see that this place had mentally drained him. A façade was all he could maintain, all for his men to stay determined. Noble, but foolhardy. Yet it's because of this façade that no one is fleeing right now; a foundation of courage. A necessity in a siege. "So what outfit are you a part of?" Asked Morozov.

"I'm accompanying Commander Shepard." The Astartes stated truthfully.

"Oh, right the dead Spectre is here. I don't put my credits with dead men. Even if they're 'heroes'."

Upon taking in the ranks of the 'Red Forest' the Astartes simply muttered. "We're all simply dead men walking."

Morozov clapped his hands at the Astartes. "I like you; listen you ever need us. Call us up, it'll be discounted for you!"

The gas began to dissipate, allowing unassisted eyes to see through. Avengers began to fire on both sides. Precise Saber shots arced across the battlefield, taking out those behind soft cover. "Move up!" The Eclipse leader cried out, her kinetic barriers flaring.

"Idiots!" Morozov yelled. "They're just letting their barriers do their work. All it takes is-" As he spoke, a blue robed Turian threw a boxy piece of equipment. Hitting the ground with a clank, it discharged a massive electrical surge. With their kinetic barriers overwhelmed, three Illium PD officers were cut down by a cross fire of Avengers. "Lob some grenades into those windows!" Morozov ordered, pointing where the hiding dissenter fired from.

Shepard's team advanced, far slower than the mercs. A staggered advance with two teams, one covering the other. "Get down!" Jacob abruptly yelled, wrapping both his arms around his squad members Grunt, and Miranda bringing them to the ground. A yellow ball surged across the battlefield, almost invisible to the eye. Exploding into a mushroom cloud, vaporizing five Blue Suns and the scrap car that they hid behind.

"Garrus, take out that Cain!" Shepard ordered. Before he could zero in his target, another round was fired. Exploding in another brilliant flash in the center of 'no-man's land'. A white barrier caused the mushroom cloud to become misshapen, but like hellish knights; the Rubric Marines advanced. Glowing hot soot stayed on their plate as they raised their weapons to their hips. In precise bursts of flaming rounds, they began the trivial slaughter of those foolish enough to leave cover.

Another slug was loaded into the Cain, just as Garrus lined up a shot for the gunner. He could only watch as they turned to ash as a green flame engulfed them. An otherworldly screech was emitted from them as their very souls were cast into the warp. The Sorcerer advanced with his Rubricae, his Serpenta vaporizing any target in the open; and warp fire for anyone hiding. The green mercenaries advanced behind them, lobbing grenades that emitted a thick black gas instead of the yellow. In coughing fits the dissenters fled out of hiding, only to see the advancing gun line.

With the full might of the warp, the Sorcerer flung dissenter, after dissenter back into the undercity. Fighting hivers was a simple task, yet it did not help that these were nowhere near the level competence of an underhive gang. The Rubric Marines broke off from the Red Forest, and proceeded to the left most building.

It was almost disheartening to see how simple of a bloody fight that was. Their simple appearance almost shattered the main defense of the attackers, leaving only the need to mop up. Even then, to see the dead littering the ground like this. Shepard recalled his days of officer training, this now reminding him of his reading of Stalingrad; a battle of block, by bloody block. He stepped over the foolhardy Eclipse leader, few survived the attack. And yet the Red Forest, and the Astartes have as little as a scratch. Perhaps it was the shock that simple civilians were capable of fending off two well-known mercenary groups, and the Illium PD was just nearly an impossible concept.

Breaching the right building, they swept room by room. Sporadic weapons fire and screams were heard. Even Zaeed was on edge in the darkened apartment block, yet it may be that he's fighting alongside Blue Suns as well. "Clear." Garrus spoke over their radio, leaving another room.

It was interesting to see the three other groups at work. Eclipse using Biotics to throw doors into the room, Blue Suns using drones to scout out rooms, and Illium's Police using stun grenades. Yet there was an air of inefficiency, which the Astartes would no doubt despise. Grunt kicked open another door, his barrier flaring as he took fire. What they saw was disgusting, another robed civilian; an Asari, bloated beyond belief. Grunt grabbed the Asari, and repeatedly smashed her head against the wall with his cybernetic arm. Green pus, and maggot infested viscera sprayed against the wall. A disgusting scent filled the entire building. The Blue Sun leader sprinted into the room, her hand covering her mouth. "GET BACK!" She yelled. The Asari bloated even more, flesh seeping through makeshift armor; before violently detonating. "Fuck!" She yelled, rubbing the bile like fluid off of her. "Burn this fucking room." She ordered. Grunt merely shook the viscera off of himself, his helmet no doubt hiding his smile.

"What the hell was that?" Shepard asked the Blue Sun.

She sighed and meekly shrugged. "Only started seeing them yesterday, biological suicide bombers. Their puss attracts flies, and not like those on Earth. Those fuckers eat you alive. Lost three to 'em."

It was shocking to hear such a thing, it's simply not natural. "How…"

"No fucking idea." She interrupted. "Past that gate is hell. I guess that makes me the ferryman."

* * *

Morozov's job was easy enough, well his tactic made it easy. Two shields stood in front of him, their shotguns ready. Gas, breach, and kill. This cycle for every room, hence why this building was known as the smokehouse. They've held it this long, might as well keep holding it. "Captain." SGT. Mira called in.

"Go ahead." He said, putting a round in a dead Krogan's head with his Predator.

"We've secured the strong room, it's not breached."

"Good, have your squad hold the lobby. Won't be long before they come back-" He stopped in his tracks, despite the tinting of their lenses, he saw his men's eyes clearly; pure fear. "What's the matter with you, move in…" He saw it now. A café of sorts had been built into the apartment block, his men had turned it into a field canteen. Crimson filled the room, his own men were strung up like some butcher's shop. Roughly twenty dissenters sat around, drinking from cups and mugs. They even drank off the floor itself, taking their fill of Morozov's men vital fluids. Madness filled their eyes as they drank. They faced his breacher team, still sunken into fear. They charged with knives, and pikes made of scrap. Kinetic shields designed to stop rifle rounds didn't register the esoteric attack. Morozov watched in horror as his two comrades were impaled by pikes, and cut to ribbons by knives. He fired round after round. If his assailants had worn kinetic barriers, he surly would not have taken a few of them down.

A shotgun blast blew another attacker away. "Captain!" One of his Specialists yelled out, dragging his leader back. A knife became lodged in the mercenary's shoulder, knocking him back. Morozov activated his Omni-tool, its micro-fabricator creating a whirling cycle of filaments. Blocking the blow, he brought it to his assailant's head; turning it into a fine red mush.

'No, this is hell.' He thought to himself as he looked at his dead men. Another squad surged past him to finish the job, their flamethrowers blazing as the world became a blurred mess.

* * *

This was a task for the Spireguard, or Oxian's Skitarii. This was beneath us, a waste of time. It was trivial to feel our foes presence, and exterminate them. Filling a room with warpfire was no challenge, nor is having us near indestructible Astartes slaughter with our blades. If I ever returned to my reality I know that my skills would have dulled to the point in that I'd be comparable to an Aspiring Sorcerer. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

I sighed, unnerving a lamb on the other side of a wall. Nakanus stabbed his Necron blade through the wall, seemingly parting just his foe's flesh. Three more stood behind another wall, I simply boiled their blood; filling the corridor with their screams. I hated this, despite the indescribable joy I gained from the Ocean being in its full might. Perhaps this is why the ruinous powers watch us mortals, because their might is beyond comprehension to all those beneath them; that it would be more tiresome to physically act. A sad, and possibly incorrect comparison; but perhaps it is most apt for the situation.

A Turian opened fire on us, I hadn't in truth noticed the insect yet. Its blue robes oddly fitting apparel for the xeno. Gahiji raised his Stubber, and with a quick burst he severed the xeno in two.

I placed my hand on the wall, feeling its smoothness. The architecture is admittedly the greatest part of this reality; nowhere near Prospero, but it's still pleasing. Yet another reminder on how humanity has fallen. If I'm not mistaken however, this is still a xeno world; perhaps humanities are only greater than.

An explosion filled the corridor with smoke, a clever trap laid by these insects. Perhaps I'm merely not giving the mortals, and xenos credit. If we were not clearing this structure, how many would have died? I'm certain if even the Skitarii we had tried this we would lose at least one. "Oxian, how fares the Normandy?" I spoke into the vox, hoping he would break this boredom clasping my mind.

"Few xenos attempted to break through, Ranger-7 dealt with them promptly." He reported.

"And what of your pet xeno?" I jokingly asked.

A silence followed, no doubt him mentally cursing me. Perhaps I would have no idea even if I was there, he'd grown exceptional with hiding his thoughts. "Tali'Zorah is performing many rituals of the Priesthood… Exceptionally. Even individual philosophy." He growled his use of exceptionally, hating that despite her short comings he's being proven wrong. It was good to see him at least try with the xeno, after the failure that was Mordin; perhaps because this was of their own initiative. Regardless, if we could get Tali to be a willing servant, than Shepard will fall as well.

Raising my Serpenta, I pulled the trigger as a group of Batarians turned the corner; vaporizing them instantly. "Any projects you may have in the near future?"

"Should you not be focusing on your current task, my lord?"

I laughed within my helmet slightly. "I get more of a challenge from a Fenrisian child."

"The combat Automata known as 'LOKI mechs', their reactors can be used for wave emitters. There is a chance of making a crude Melta weapon; pathetically crude, but a Melta weapon regardless. Otherwise, I await resources from 'Cerberus'." While his definition of 'crude' tends to be akin to an Ork weapon, I'm glad he's making progress in adaption; for time is all we truly have.

A chill went down my spine, my head began to ache. Something I thought would be impossible, a Pariah. How in the Ocean they could have that gene present but no psykers will be a saddening mystery, but this was going to be interesting at least. Perhaps a poetic kill, after all it's their disgusting fault that I'm here. I felt its presence, the horrible feeling of nothingness. Right above us; a weak order was given, my Rubricae already moving sluggishly as a result of its presence. They opened fire, rounds easily penetrating the metallic flooring. The abomination was fast, it was doubtful that it was using the upper floor. My Rubricae turned their guns to the vent, and opened fire once more. I hoped it would cut it off, and kill it. Instead the creature left the vent system in a swift kick.

It was a xeno, green with 'gills' on a human like face; its pitch black eyes similar to a son of the Raven. Turning their stubbers to our foe, they filled the corridor with rounds. Almost as fast as an Astartes, it moved to cover; and then continued running. I gave pursuit, staff and Serpenta in hand. Perhaps this will be a far greater challenge than anything else here, considering this xeno's exceptional speed and abhorrent gene. I than realized something, the beast led me into a trap. With the speed of a chainsword, and the force of an arc maul; a Krogan hit me in the gut with a weapon in form of hammer. I regained my senses, only for a second blow to make contact with the side of my head. My right eye lens cracked, and shattered. I was a fool; my desire for the abomination's blood, and my underestimation of the Krogan. His third blow was parried, my blade skewering the crimson clad Krogan. I lifted it and tossed it off my blade. Another charged me with a hammer, I braced ready to slay this one as well. Only for another Krogan to charge this one wearing many bones on its armor. It brought its own hammer down, overpowering its foe and crushing its head.

I felt the Pariah in the vents once more, I aimed my Serpenta; ready to kill the bastard. "Watch out!" A female, growling voice called out. A blue cloaked human fired its weapon. I saw the missile, and tried to stop it. No, the Pariah wouldn't allow that. My world faded to black as it made contact with me.

* * *

Bathed in radiant light, I ate and drank with my brothers. The balcony that we chose for this occasion was frequented by us, and many others within the legion after long or troubling campaigns. A view consisting of Old Tizca, and with a squint you could see the lion of Occullum Square.

Terranis was always the most worried of us, just as he was the youngest. Yet his caution was a great help at times. "To what extent would the Emperor enforce his decree, and what if its breaking point is miniscule? What if he sends the Wolves if we so much as foresee our future?"

"Doubtful at best." Isador Tol-Kai, our Apothecary merely sighed. "No one will enforce Nikea. So we shall continue our work forever more."

Nakanus simply snorted. "Indeed, it's pathetic that you would even think that would happen; brother against brother? Absurd."

I continued to drink my wine in silence, my brothers were arguing for an hour. Not that I despise it; we all must adapt, and this is how scholars and philosophers act. Atum Laudren simply toyed with his servo arm, the desire to drink and eat being trained out of him on Mars. "Not that absurd, the Wolves hate us with every drop of blood they have. After all, one of Ahriman's trainees was one to betray us. They will betray us completely, so we must be cautious." He spoke with a cold logical tone, yet I knew in the back of his mind he deemed the odds as too low; but still present.

Gahiji lowered his drink. "Agreed, least we can do is be cautious. Preparation never harmed anyone."

"It's not as bad as we think." Akil Khenti began simply. "Even without our power at its full might, we are still the finest Astartes in the galaxy." He spoke in a triumphant tone; masking not hatred, but disappointment.

"It's hypocrisy." I muttered.

"Brother, do not say that." Lukman snarled. "If it's the will of the Emperor-"

"A perfect psychic being, need I remind you. He's frightened by the knowledge we've acquired, or what we may learn." I finished my drink, which a serf promptly refilled without as much as a glance.

Herumon lowered his drink. "Then he would have his reasons." He spoke with a sharp tongue. "Something beyond our comprehension."

"Beyond Magnus's?" I retorted. "Ignorance is the true evil in this galaxy; not the Orks, not Eldar raiders. If the Emperor wishes to deny us what makes us righteous and hide it for himself, what would that make him?"

Isador turned to me, his organic emerald eyes cutting into me like those of our helmets. "Perhaps he wishes us to grow a little more slowly, so he can teach us himself. We've learnt so much in centuries, perhaps as much as he learnt in many millennia. We may turn to dust with such knowledge and no preparation. Time will answer that question, and besides; Guilliman can't be the only one to build their own empire." He earned a few laughs from my brothers. "To change the subject slightly; we should be thankful of those who spoke on our side during Nikea."

"Indeed, I will have to thank the next son of the Khan I see." Laudren spoke once again; I knew of his fondness of fighting along the White Scars, and I too grew fond of them after seeing Yesugei speak.

I finished yet another glass of wine before standing. "I'm returning to my quarters for the night, if any of you wish to continue this conversation; I'll be there."

"Share my greetings with your apprentice." Requested Nakanus, who I nodded to as I left. Donning my helmet, I walked past mortals who would otherwise not expect Astartes in such establishments. I made the steady journey to the Pyramid of Photep. My brothers had failed to remove the uncertainty clouding my mind.

Fire, fire was all I saw; nothing more. This filled my throat with bile. I wanted, no I needed answers. This feeling continued until I could not contain it anymore, I raised into my upper Enumerations; a false peace in the tempest within my own mind. The world was a blur as I overlooked unneeded details, I was once more in the eyes of the Sekhmet. The tempest softened as I saw the entrance of the Pyramid. Almost delusional I walked for an extra hour up the stairs to my quarters.

The door silently opened, showing my books being hardly moved. The braziers remained eternally alight. Marble floors, and the large windows made it seemingly an eternal reflection of light as well. "Master!" A young voice cried out from beyond the second room's door.

My apprentice approached me with a slight bow. Her striking violet eyes never leaving mine, her shoulder length blonde hair was freshly groomed; and flesh of porcelain, almost like that of an Eldar. Many mortals described her as 'beautiful', something I couldn't truly care for. "Annette, how goes your studies?" I asked; her name was not her own, originally it was some unpronounceable savage tongue. Then the Word Bearers 'enlightened' her world, yet again I still think they're still on that world; Cadia I believe. In fact she changed twice, she preached that the Emperor was a god once herself; At least I changed that swiftly. So malleable the minds of mortals.

"They fair well." She produced a bottle of wine from behind my desk. "Lord Ahriman sent this as a gift, 'a token of thanks for standing resolute at his side.'" I laughed internally, the amount of drink this day makes me feel like a Space Wolf in that regard. I removed my helmet; it still struck me odd how she was never revolted by my scarred flesh. "Is something wrong?" She asked as I felt her mind reach into mine, I could never fully live as an empath.

"Uncertainty." I merely said. Placing my Khopesh near my weapon rack, and helmet on its stand. "Do you feel it?" I asked, she had grown significantly psychically; mastery of feeling the minds of others, and massive improvement in precognition. Even Ahriman was impressed, perhaps Magnus will be as well in time.

"No, only from your mind." She reported. Taking in the impressive view of Tizca from this high up was enlightening at times, it was almost like living as a raven. "I was wondering, if I could join you on your next campaign? Or voyage in general." She suddenly blurted out, breaking the temporary tranquil silence that persisted.

"An odd request."

"No, not really. We hardly have any form of lessons, and Ahriman has been instructing a Remembrancer; if I'm not mistaken. And my improvement in the teaching of the Corvidae have slowed drastically, so it would be in our best interests to continue off-world." She stated, clearly using logic to win this request.

"I'm certain if I speak to anyone within the Great Library they would say you've either put off your studies, or you're lying about your progress." She weakly smiled at this. "Tell the truth."

"As lovely that Prospero is; I want to see the stars. Regardless, I am your pupil; and what type of teacher never teaches his student?"

"You would make a fine diplomat, but you're still evading the truth."

She was silent for a few moments, I anticipated another slight lie. "I wish to be with you, that's the truth." She laughed slightly. "Foolish of me, to let my emotions be a driving force for such a decision; but I implore you to at least consider it." She once again weakly smiled at me, her eyes never leaving mine.

"It is not my decision to make; you would best ask Lord Ahriman." Her smile faded at my response. It was odd to see such reactions, let alone understand them at times. I suppose that's what truly separates us from mortals, the little actions that define our 'humanity'; it's pathetic to be forced to separate what we once were.

"One day you'll see, the wings that I see." She spoke in almost a whisper, eyes growing wistful.

* * *

The ornate warrior was knocked to the ground by the blast. A quick burst from her Cyclone rifle cut down the launcher carrying madman. "Drack! Help me a little!" She ordered, rushing over the fallen Astartes.

"He just took a missile to the chest I doubt…" He examined the damage only being scorch marks, and a minor dink. "Never mind, or his lungs may have collapsed. Who knows, but we should keep moving Vetra." Drack dismissively growled.

Vetra moved his robes slightly, revealing a precise small hole between his ribs. A small, insignificant amount of bleeding emerged from it. But then she saw seemingly writhing flesh beneath, slowly covering the wound like maggots on a corpse. Disgusting was putting it lightly; yet it was thankfully temporary as it formed together, hardening an almost scale like 'scab.' His broken lens showed a seemingly burned eye, yet in the back of her mind it was off-putting in some regard. "Shit!" She activated her Omni-tool, scanning for internal damage. What little the scan showed was a mash between unidentifiable cybernetics, and organs. "Damn, hardly human." She muttered. "Come on, prove me wrong! Got enough crazies as is."

"Vetra, I swore he was chasing… What was his name again? The Drell runner?" He asked as he aimed his shotgun, covering Vetra. "We better clear out of here soon. Won't be long until either more show up, or Red Forest guns us down in the crossfire."

Drawing her pistol to keep a weapon ready she looked into the lifeless lens of the Astartes. A sudden luminescent green glow emerged, and his right eye opened revealing an icy blue tainted by flecks of purple. Jumping back from the Astartes as he raised his own pistol and pointed it squarely at Vetra.

* * *

 _Only the fool wishes to go into battle to beat someone for the satisfaction of beating someone._ I believe one of the slabs at the Palace of Wisdom once said that. I suppose my desire to kill the abomination makes me a fool, an amazingly alive fool. Twice I've awakened into the eyes of xenos; at least I have not killed or injured the xeno this time. Lowering my bolt pistol, we all turned to the sudden crash of my Rubricae kicking down a door to reach me. "I guess that's that then." The Turian spoke, lowering its weapon in defeat and standing. It was thinner than Garrus, with a shortened 'crest', and flatter faced. The tone in its voice made me assume that it was a female of the species. "I guess if you're going to kill us, get on with it." Her green reptile like eyes obscured by a visor.

"You're kidding Vetra?" A Krogan spoke up, bones adorning its armor. And its own carapace seemingly grown and faded, unlike Grunt's many metallic segments. It growled in a gruff tone, aged perhaps? "Yeah, give up then."

I raised myself on my staff. "I don't have any need to kill you, yet."

"Yet; yeah makes all the problems go away. Considering you're one of them, makes you really trustworthy." Sarcasm filled her voice.

"You are not dead yet, so that should shed your fear. And what do you mean by 'them.'"

"You're marked, only people at the center of the red zones have those scars." What scars? I reached up, only to feel the flesh around my right eye twitch at the ice cold ceramite. I casted an illusion; hastily, the imperfect replication shimmered in mortal eyes. "How… How did you do that?" She stammered at her words, even the Krogan looked in disbelief. A reaction I've grown accustomed to over the millennia; oh how misunderstood our art is, especially here.

"The red zones?" I inquired, Rubricae forming a perimeter once I noticed their unease at their open backs.

She crossed her arms. "Brain Scorchers, hell pits, madness land, they go by many names; officially they're red zones. People go in, come out with your scars with the intent to kill anyone else. Unlike the bastards attacking here, they're competent. Well, blue robes seem to be the exception to that; but they aren't fearless, just smarter than the rest." She explained, looking at my Rubricae. "Are you new or something?"

I grabbed my Serpenta, and inspected it for damage. "Somewhat, but I'm possibly the only one with expertise on this matter." Thankfully little befell my ancient sidearm.

"New, and an expert. Never heard that one before. Listen if you aren't going to kill us." She stopped speaking as she donned her helmet. "Help us kill some of these bastards before Red Forest gases us out."

"Where's the breaching team? Seeing how they're counter attacking." The Krogan inquired.

"This task fell onto us, the floors below are clear; but that pariah escaped. We must kill it." I told the xenos, my focus solely on the hunt.

The Krogan rested his shotgun on his shoulder. "Ten of you? Damn, how many did you lose? And this pariah, can't say I'm familiar with the term; even in this shithole."

"I lost none of my brothers." I snarled. "This pariah is a soulless abomination, which must be cleansed."

The Turian raised her rifle toward the stairwell, indeed I began to hear the rapid footfalls as well. With a silent order, my Rubricae cut through the walls with their stubbers. Those beyond it screamed as they were cut down. She was focused, her piercing gaze analyzed each corner as if something were to appear. "We've got two more floors to clear, and I don't think there's that many left. After that, they'll be scattered. So Drack, and I will clear what's left. Could you cover the first floor so no more show up on our asses?"

I felt 12 scared souls in the floors above, the emptiness of the Pariah having faded. "How many do you think remain?"

"Ten, give or take. We'll be quick."

She loaded another thermal clip into her weapon. "Don't die too easily; if you fail, I'd want you to suffer." I idly threatened, after all their failure would just be a great annoyance. My Rubricae gathered behind me as I began to walk down the corpse littered stairs.

"I don't exactly plan on dying, so we'll take you up on that." She responded, weapon raised as she ascended the stairs.

* * *

With the other two buildings cleared, snipers took up their positions. Firing at anything that moved on the 'hell' side of the gate. Garrus couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Only a few held weapons of any sort, most making a 'mad dash' simply held sticks and furniture pieces. Yet the most disgusting part was what the other marksmen fired on, the ones who simple walked around mindlessly. They simply walked to and fro, grabbing pieces of scrap; never even looking at their positions. Some simply looked at the dashers like they were mad to even try, as if they were just normal people in the wrong place wrong time. He could see Eclipse taking the shots, ending their confused lives; but most of those shots were from Illium's own police force. "Madness is a plague here." He overheard a few speak to Shepard. Yes, it's a plague; but it's infected everyone here. Both sides were equally mad, to hold life in such casual disregard. Eclipse, the Blue Suns, Red Forest, and now even Illium's police; this was not a fight, it was a free for all. "Survival." A few muttered as well. If this is what it took to survive, than death would be preferable in his eyes. 'If this is what the Reapers will be like.' He thought to himself. 'Then even if we win, what would we have lost?'

"Shepard." The Blue Sun leader approached them. "You and your team's dismissed, looks like we lived another day." She stated grimly. "See the back lines for cleanup; especially after that freak, along with all the gas." They followed Shepard out in a grim silence. They were throwing the corpses off into the city below after taking what they needed, an undignified death. Red Forest teams used hoses to wash off any residue from their terrible weapons, a foam followed by water.

"Shepard." A red bereted man approached them, wearing a black rubber mask. "We need you and your people to strip for cleaning." He gestured to a darkened rubber tent.

"Is it necessary?" He responded.

"For an N7 you must be stupid!" He laughed deeply. "That's X-10, and our own little custom 'soup.' You want to kill anyone you talk to before you go to bed, be my guest."

Shepard drowned out the idea that he was in such a battlefield, the absolutely horrid idea made him think it was similar to tear gas. "Barbaric assholes!" He yelled, restraining himself from killing the man.

"Well, these 'barbaric assholes' are keeping everyone up there alive and such. So I think we're more heroic than 'the hero of the citadel' himself. Trust me, the bounty on heroes heads are quite large; so I guess that give me two reasons to kill you for stepping through that door!" Everyone nearby tensed and slowly reached for their weapons.

"Enough Corporal!" Another green clad mercenary approached. "Go clean the Mako if you're going to be an asshole about this!" He saluted before leaving, Morozov extended his hand toward Shepard. "I need to be cleaned too, don't worry my boys work quickly. Just as our custom stuff is easy to clean, X-10 not so much. Give us thirty minutes to an hour, and it would be like nothing happened. CPT. Morozov, at your service." Shepard heard of Morozov before; a veteran of the Skyllian Blitz, with more war crimes committed than most in the past century. He fought on both Elysium and Torfan, he and some deranged Major had killed more Batarians in different unspeakable acts then Shepard had fought on Elysium alone. He reluctantly took his hand, still uncertain whether to shake or strangle him. "I had some boys sweep building three…" He whistled. "Boy they did some fine work!" Shepard knew he was talking about the Astartes. "A runner told me he took a missile in the chest, and walked it off! If we had a few more this problem would be gone in a few days!"

'And with millions of bodies.' Shepard mentally added. "I guess we have to go through with the cleaning detail? We need to take out those guns ASAP."

"Yeah, it's for your long term health." He responded jokingly. "X-10's not pretty, the 'soup's' okay; but it's like choosing death over blindness, and lung problems. When you can go neither. Besides, you'd need a runner; and runner's go out at night. So it gives you some time; and like I said, my boys are quick." His team made their way over to the tent, as Shepard stared down the captain for a few moments before joining them.

* * *

Vetra watched the Astartes in awe for some time, after the initial horror of them, she found some type of beauty. An archaic beauty that some find in vases, and lamps, but a beauty none the less. Unlike Drack and herself, they were being cleaned by blue robed soldiers and a Quarian, being observed by massive masked beast. Almost in a ritual performed by priests, unlike the rough treatment that everyone gets from Red Forest. Yet there was also something off about their leader, it seemed as if he had an aura. Nothing but raw power, and sorrow. It was odd; yet again, everything's odd these days.

"I'm uncertain my lord." Oxian spoke with a self-loathing tone. "I have nothing, minimal ceramite and let alone the circuitry required for such a task. At least these primitives used a basic chemical weapon, your armor's internal cleaners managed to eliminate such exposure. And purified oils will be more than sufficient."

"Once again this is but an illusion, nothing will stop the mortal weapons. And with a Pariah, I may not be able to create a barrier to stop it." The Sorcerer growled, hating that he led himself into such a situation.

Tali swore to Oxian that these 'Mechanicum affairs' would never be told to her friends, an oath she will keep; but it was odd to see even the Astartes being able to be brought low, or at least damaged. "Lord Oxian?" She muttered softly. "Perhaps I could adapt a kinetic barrier for our lord Astartes. It should prevent such an incident that you mention; a device mount much like the narth…" She struggled with the gothic word.

"Narthecium." The Sorcerer corrected, looking down at the girl with some modicum of respect.

"Narthecium! Thank you, my lord. With a wrist mounted unit, I could have moderately strong barriers built in." Even Oxian was impressed by the ingenuity of the Quarian, but yet he was repulsed by the idea.

Turning to his lord he began to speak. "The idea is fine, Tech-Apprentice; but ultimately such a decision comes down to the Astartes themselves."

With a nod, the Quarian's eyes lit up in a sense of glee. "How long may it take you?" He asked.

"But an hour, at most one-point-five hours." She was swiftly filling the role of a Tech Adept, much to Oxian's own surprise.

"My lords, Alpha-23 contained cogitator units. Apologies my lord, but a Pariah would interfere with your senses far too much. Perhaps the addition of such a unit would permit an additional information acquisition system, they are superior to the primitive systems after all." Ranger-7 blurted out, hoping the blunt use of data would be beneficial to all.

"Very well, make the preparations; both of you. Oxian, the mercenary group present here may be of future use. Observe them, and prepare to contact them on my behest." Oxian bowed at his lord, reaching into his robes.

#The xenos are beginning to understand our resolute nature, and are dissipating from the Normandy.# The Peltast reported to his Techpriest.

#Maintain your objective; a moment of laxity may condemn us all.# He sent back, before pulling out a Servo-Skull. "Perhaps this would be suited for this operation, my lord." It hovered as it activated, a scanner unit emitted a red cone; absorbing all the new data around itself. Many now cleaned mortals stopped to look at the unit, the hovering skull scanned its lord Techpriest and a light blinked green. Printed on the forehead was Oxian's personal sigil; the serpent of the Thousand Sons, built within a cog. "You performed well in life Peltast-Alpha-23, now serve forever more in death." Oxian muttered a quick honor. "This unit has been updated with innumerable identification specifications…"

"It's better if it serves you Oxian." The Sorcerer interrupted.

Oxian chose not argue, for he was his lord Astartes servant. He simply bowed as the Servo-Skull hovered over him. Tali was horrifically intrigued; while her old morals conflicted with such a device, it was still a marvel of technology.

* * *

A few probing attacks were made against the gate, each effortlessly repulsed. Yet the every lost thermal clip only lowered morale evermore. And in Shepard's eyes, the waiting only worsened the situation. The loud crack of the defense guns could be heard across the city. He even watched a freighter crash into one of Illium's skyscrapers, and could only helplessly wait for one to crash into their towers; killing him, his team, even Liara. And yet the Astartes simply watched the weapons fire, even looking out into space; as if their lenses could be seen for the endless miles of the void. This was no doubt their paradise, a battlefield that they excel in. He could only sigh as he could not figure out if it was the worst decision, or the best taking them aboard.

The sky slowly turned orange, what little sleep he got was constantly interrupted by those guns. Perhaps this is what a trench was like, hell last time he heard an artillery cannon was in basic training. And now the similar sounds ringed in his ears. Flash, crack, flash, boom, in an endless cycle. "Shepard?" Garrus rounded the corner that he chose to rest near, his helmet still donned; making him seem like a grim reaper. It didn't help that something that rarely happens on Illium occurred; it began to rain. Perhaps it was the magma vents producing steam, or this was a once in a lifetime experience; or it's a reminder of this blood soaked hell, a subtle reminder. Regardless, the dark clouds began to cover the sky. The guns, and the remaining working lights illuminating the now moonless sky. Garrus looked upwards, the rain sliding off his helmet's visor. "We'll be setting out soon. Our runner wants to give us a small briefing, and the Astartes wishes to speak to you." He weakly nodded at his friend's report and began to head over to where their guide told them to gather.

His team was already sitting around the holomap, across from the Astartes and the Ranger. "That's everyone?" The runner asked, to which Shepard nodded in confirmation. "I guess we should get basic introductions over with. Vetra, Vetra Nyx. This is Nakmor Drack; and it's our jobs to keep you alive out there. So you'll listen and do everything we tell you. There's some strange shit out there that will kill you in a snap; so if I tell you to do a handstand, you better do it." She looked at the Astartes briefly before sighing. "Stealth won't be easy, but everyone needs to keep their head down. Swimming in corpses is hard enough, it's harder when the entire block is heading your way. As for kit; you'll need a minimum of two days rations. Medi-gel, thermal clips, a demo pack, your Omni-tools to have the blade re-enabled…"

The Ranger and her lord made a soft laugh at the mention of 'Omni-blades'; perhaps due to wasted training for something that already existed, or that they'd be disabled in the first place. "SGT. Mira from Red Forest will do it for you, so speak with her when we're done. As for our route, we'll be making a beeline for the central bastion; stopping only for a few yellow zone communities. On our way back, we'll be passing the museum safe zone. Then we'll be home free. Needless to say, this is an easier said than done trip. We'll be passing the main Scorcher, along with a few psy-fields. During those times, I'll ask you to do the handstand and you better do it quick. Doesn't help either that we'll be right in the sights of the Marked; tough, smart, and utterly fanatical. They say they know where you are at all times, but that's bullshit; they only know if they find you in the first place. Any questions, because we won't get any other time for them?"

"Yellow zones?" Miranda abruptly asked.

"Little hamlets of sane people living outside these towers; they're far smarter than most living here. Plus they usually live right on the food stockpiles, so they trade with everyone." Vetra answered.

"These 'Marked', what are they armed with?" Zaeed inquired.

"Same as Red Forest, sometimes better. That Cain during the battle was most likely supplied by them." A few muttered 'shits' could be heard from Shepard's team, hardware like that in the hands of fanatics could never end well.

The next question was from Jacob. "How long will we be out in the field?"

"A day, two at most. I normally don't guide this many for the sake of speed."

"How many will we face?" Grunt asked, with a grin.

"Don't get your hopes up whelp." Drack growled. "An entire hunting party of Krogan have been cut up in less time than you've talked."

"Don't chastise me, old man." He snarled back.

"It is a fair question." The Astartes joined the discussion. "I need to know when would be the best time to waste ammunition. Are we facing thousands, or millions?"

"I've seen groups go up to thousands; if we stay and hold, than there will be millions by the day's end." Answer Vetra, causing even Shepard's face turn to that of pure concern. "Hopefully this rain will seclude us somewhat. If there's no more questions, we should finish prepping. We'll leave in thirty minutes."

"The terrain of your route, what is it like?" The Ranger asked.

"Close and personal. The maze that is the lower city will be a good segment of the trip, so bring shotguns; or as I said, Omni-blades."

Silence followed, and Vetra merely nodded and left. Shepard quickly followed her as his team left to make their final preparation. "A pleasure to meet you." She said never breaking step.

"Along with taking out those guns, we're looking for some people." He hastily explained. "Samara, an Asari Justicar; and Thane Krios, a Drell assassin. We're recruiting them, if you have any idea where they are…"

"If memory serves me right; there's a Justicar at the museum safe zone, and Thane's a runner so he could be anywhere." Shepard bit his lip at where Thane could be, yet again he would be the goose chase. He broke away from her, and went to assist his team.

* * *

And so they stood, at the verge of a new world. Watching it burn around them. "This wait is pointless! We should crush them now!" One growled, with a blood curdling laugh afterwards.

"Our preparations are almost complete. Then you can have whatever you wish, but not before." Another said back with a sigh. "What is occurring right now is paramount, and cannot afford interruptions."

"Enough!" The third yelled out. "Your endless delays annoy me, and your endless bloodlust is not needed! We stand at the precipice of our great glory, so many souls; ripe for the scythe! We will send them to our lords, but only once we are certain that they'll hear our mighty choir of screams; and take our offerings of blood."

"I would take the greatest of offerings, and yet you confine me here with the weakling! Whilst the others are out there, taking the many glories this world offers!" The first voice snarled back.

"Because they have a touch with the weak, pathetic mortals here. One that you do not possess. Fear not, when the mortals approach once more, you can take your followers and sate yourself." The third spoke once more.

* * *

They looked over the gate, the corpses uncleaned and blood tainting the once pristine streets. It was as if they stood on the verge of a new world. The Astartes looked out, as if it were familiar. Vetra stared at the top of a light pole, and Shepard noticed it; the raven with red eyes. No one, but he and Vetra seemed to notice it. He walked next to the Sorcerer, and asked. "What's with the raven?"

"What raven?" He responded, as it slowly faded to dust once more.

* * *

Author notes: Recently I've been doing major overhauls to the plot; as such I had to rewrite much of this chapter. For example: Morozov, and Prospero's second flash back was non-existent, along with Vetra and Drack's introduction being for a later chapter. I even have the story's ending act planned (Something that's post Andromeda).

How long I'll be performing these overhauls? I can't accurately say, so I apologize.

Status update on the next chapter: Life has repeatedly been getting in the way of any opportunity to write; once more, I apologize.


End file.
